


Presque Vu

by keepnon



Series: Detective Inspector Bang [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Description, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 99,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28337886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepnon/pseuds/keepnon
Summary: He's been plagued by nightmares and flashbacks since he woke up with amnesia 13 years ago. Now Chris is a Detective Inspector, partnered with Detective Sergeant Seo and Detective Constable Han.But the nightmares don't leave him alone. When he gets assigned to a gruesome murder, he finds that his past has not only caught up with him, but is now trying to drag him back. A mysterious man appears who seems to have all the answers, but Chris is left more confused than ever.The string of murders continues, and he gets drawn deeper into the case. Only problem is, Chris isn't aware that he's one of the intended victims. And it's only a matter of time before he's next.
Relationships: Bang Chan & Han Jisung | Han & Seo Changbin, Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han, Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Detective Inspector Bang [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2173437
Comments: 81
Kudos: 98





	1. Inception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My partners and I can handle it, no matter what. Sir – Superintendent– we can do this.”   
> “See for yourself.”

_[The starting point.]_

_[“Time to go, now my voyage begins.”]_

**Monday, dawn**

"Morning." The empty room made no reply, almost mocking him in its stubborn silence. He rubbed his hand across his eyes, turning his head to the clock on his bedside table.

_5:30am._

Fucking hell. His shift started at eight. How convenient that his body clock had decided that four hours sleep was a fantastic baseline. He groaned and rolled over, burying his head in his pillow. Morning light was already creeping through his windows, despite his best efforts to cover every tiny hole with scraps of cardboard. To his credit, he squeezed his eyes shut and did his best to mute his brain. If only he could sleep dreamlessly, to get a reprieve from the usual kaleidoscope of night terrors that haunted him.

He muttered darkly about how he was not liable for any damage he caused while tired. He reminded his brain about how he had a ten-hour shift looming. He threatened his brain with auto-asphyxiation. He even mulled over the pros and cons of chloroforming himself.

Finally, he gave up, moodily rolling out of bed. _Dumb brain._ He grumbled to himself.

A monologue consisting of several choice curses and self-pity filled his apartment. He continued to mutter darkly to himself as he began his morning routine of caffeinating his body. He resisted the urge to slip out the door in search of a nicotine fix. He hadn’t smoked in years, but the thought of it still lingered. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. But he wasn’t willing to break his word – he’d promised one of his partners that he’d quit, and he both respected and cared about them too much to betray their trust.

Gradually the hours began to drag by, allowing him precious – if dangerously consuming – time with himself. Chris hated coffee, but he forced himself to drink it. He was a cop, after all, and if he could survive the streets, he could survive a little bit of extra bitterness in the morning.

In his region, the real bread and butter of his work was conducted by moonlight. Humans had a primitive instinct to conduct their sins in the dark. They were like rats, scampering through their burrows, looking for their next meal.

But as a Detective, he was forced to work during the day, therefore missing out on all of the action. Sometimes Chris wished that he was a vampire. He always preferred to sleep during the day, anyway. Besides, getting up close and personal with criminals made his job interesting. He wanted to understand them, to question them, to _learn_ about them.

Still, there was a line that had to be toed. He had to keep to his side of the law, even if he didn’t always agree with it. Sometimes being a Detective wasn’t so black and white, despite his superior’s constant speeches of ‘it’s us versus them’. Often crime didn’t even involve shades of grey – sometimes it was a bold, confronting red; other times unremarkable, like beige. But Chris didn’t regret his career choice. Not yet, anyway.

His coffee had grown cold as he’d sat lost in thought, but he gulped it down anyway, far too used to the taste to grimace. As he rose to his feet, he tried to ignore his aching muscles. Back to the same old routine, it seemed.

Wake up still tired. Trudge into work. Get tasked with solving a murder. Get praised and slandered in equal measure by the very people he was trying to protect. Go home to a dark and cold apartment. Sleep. Repeat.

Thankfully being a plainclothes Detective had its perks – he could wear all black, and no one could give him shit about it. Except for his partners, of course, who were still trying to convince him to wear a white shirt outside of press conferences. Apparently, the contrast would bring out his face, or something. He wriggled into favourite pair of worn black jeans, before rifling through his closet for his long-sleeved black button-up.

There was a knock on the door, and Chris jumped. Finally locating the shirt, he hurried to button it up before hurrying over to the door. He opened the door to find his Detective Constable and partner, Han, beaming up at him, looking far too awake for a Monday morning.

“Hey, Chris.” The Detective’s eyes instantly began travelling over his face, and Chris knew that his partner was taking stock of the dark bags under his eyes. Han frowned, and Chris pointedly avoided his gaze, slinging his scarf around his neck and closing the door behind him. It was made of a light, silky material, his favourite pick for warmer weather. He would usually never let anyone see him before he’d fully concealed the scars on his neck, but…he didn’t care if it was Han who was the one watching.

The skin of his neck was twisted and stretched taught by ragged strips of pale, shiny skin. The scars had faded from angry red and pink to bright white, but in his opinion, it looked even weirder. He had never gone to work yet without concealing the mess of old wounds curled around his throat. He opted to wear turtlenecks during winter, which Han complimented him on, but scarves or light scraps of fabric during summer.

Han had been partnered with Chris for several years now. He was always first to greet Chris in the morning and the last one to see him off. At work, they were joined at the hip, and Chris also spent most of his spare time with the fellow Detective. Han was his best friend, his confidant, and occasional life coach. Chris had nursed a soft spot for the younger man ever since he was a Detective Sergeant, at the timing pushing for Han to start training as a Detective.

No one had known why, at first. Chris had been sent on an excursion around the district, looking for any promising newbies or bored senior officers that would make a good addition to the crime squad. Of course, having been a DS, he’d attracted the attention of the younger officers. Some of them only had a couple of years under their belt as PCs and had surrounded him with wide eyes full of awe. He’d quickly put a stop to that, though.

Chris knew he had quite a threatening aura when he was working. He’d ended up scaring most of them away. Most had spent half an hour just working up the courage to shake his hand before darting away to watch from afar. But Han had approached him, clearly intimidated, with his head held high anyway. He’d been a mousy young man back then. Despite his quivering voice and hands, he’d stood tall in front of Chris, bombarding him with questions and bizarre stories and a hunger to prove himself.

Chris had later looked over Han’s scores, the young man having stuck in his head long after he’d gone home. Han didn’t excel in one particular area – he seemed to be good at _everything._ There’d also just been something about him that Chris hadn’t been able to ignore. Maybe it was his passion, maybe it was the bright spark in his eyes, but Chris had been drawn to him. The next day Chris had gone to his superiors, saying he knew it was a bit uncouth to recruit a Detective so young, but that he was _certain_ Han would excel in their unit. His superiors had been unsure, but Chris had shown them Han’s scores, had told them about Han’s interest and sharp attention to detail.

It wasn’t more than a month later when Han had shown up at Chris’ desk, stumbling over _thank you, thank you, thank you,_ until Chris had put a finger to his lips and winked at him. He glanced over at Han, a soft smile on his lips as he easily fell into step with the younger man.

“Hey, man, you look…” Chris couldn’t help but grin at him, Han’s concern now a cute little novelty to him. Han was always trying to fuss over him. It was adorable. If it was anyone else, it would have been annoying, but Chris could count on one hand the amount of times Han had genuinely pissed him off.

Seeing Han in the morning always cheered him up. Chris loved their commutes. He knew that at some point he should wipe the stupid grin off of his face, but he couldn’t help it. After a shit night’s sleep, plagued by nightmares, seeing Han was like a breath of fresh air.

“Awful?” Chris offered, laughing at Han’s sheepish nod. “Seems like my body has decided four hours of sleep is good enough.” Han frowned yet again, stopping dead in his tracks.

“Maybe time to knock off a bit earlier, yeah?” Han patted his shoulder. The Constable pointedly avoided his gaze for a moment, eyes fixed on his feet. “You know you could’ve called me if you were having trouble sleeping.” Chris smiled fondly at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Han’s cheeks were pink. Chris stubbornly attributed it to the slight chill in the air.

“But then you’d lose sleep, Hannie. I can’t have that.” Chris bumped their shoulders together playfully, and Han pouted.

“Maybe just take it easy for a little bit, then.” Han grumbled.

“What alternative universe are you living in?” Chris laughed. “Come on, hurry up. You know Binnie will eat us alive if we’re late.” Han had been one of Chris’ first real friends. Before he’d met Han, Chris had only really only had Changbin. He’d been the one of the first people that Chris had felt comfortable divulging his past too.

Thirteen years ago, Chris had woken up in a filthy drain, in a city he didn’t recognise, covered in blood and muck. His clothes had been ripped and torn, he’d been delirious and feverish, and he’d had no memories to speak of. His first real memory was of staring up at a clear and serene blue sky, which had soothed the blinding pain and confusion he had felt. Then he’d passed out. The next thing he knew, he was being poked and prodded by doctors and had been confined to a hospital bed. He’d only been seventeen.

At most, all he'd regained were flashes, which were twisted and obscured by shadows. Some were clear, but only gave him small snippets of information. Without context, they meant nothing to him. He had blinding headaches, but nothing else. He'd maintained the ability to read and write, which the neurologists had told him was a part of the retrograde amnesia. It seemed that there were some things that the brain did not forget, like double-knotting his shoelaces, or stringing words together. 

His mother – he had some vague memories of her, which helped somewhat – had told him that they’d just moved overseas from Australia. When she’d finally taken him home, it had seemed like a true story – there were boxes full of clothes and cutlery scattered around the apartment. She’d introduced him to their neighbours and had shown him all the paperwork she’d had to do. One day, he’d finally plucked up the courage to find out about his father. His mother’s silence had been enough of a giveaway that it was a sensitive subject, but still…he hadn’t been able to bite back the curiosity.

_‘Where’s dad?’_ He’d asked, eyes wide and innocent. His mother’s face had twisted – it was hard to discern whether it was from fear or pain. _‘Gone.’_ She’d whispered. _‘If only you remembered, Cha – Chris. I’m sorry.”_ Since then, she hadn’t spoken about anything from his past. It was a complete mystery to him. Every time he asked what kind of person he’d been, if he had any friends, what his favourite colour was, _anything_ – she’d just give him a tight-lipped smile and would turn away.

So here he was now, thirteen years later, still none the wiser as to who he was or where he'd come from. All that remained of his previous life were scars adorning his neck. Just thinking about them made him scowl. Even at home he couldn’t bear to leave them uncovered and normally wore hoodies.

At least the scars had had a purpose. They’d been the main focus of the police investigation. He’d been told by the Detective on his case that they looked almost…organised. Very purposeful. Whoever had wounded him had wanted him to suffer, without killing him. 

He'd been involved with the force from the very start. They’d been heavily involved in his life for several years, so naturally he’d developed a bit of a complex for them. Hero worship would do that to you. Taking a job as a cop had seemed like the obvious career path. When he was still a teenager, he’d been obsessed with trying to find out who he was, and he’d figured that if he one day became a Detective, he’d be able to figure it all out. Over time the urge had faded, even once he’d achieved his goal of becoming a Detective. As he kept pace with Han, who was chattering away next to him, Chris couldn’t help but smile. He cared less about who he was and more about who was now. He _belonged_ here.

His first close friend had been a man he’d affectionately nicknamed BamBam. He’d been the first one to calm Chris down after a nightmare, until Chris had learned how to control his screams himself and stand on his own two feet. BamBam had been the one to kneel next to Chris, rubbing his back as a headache kept him pinned to the floor. They’d become Detective Constables together, assigned to the same senior officer. He had even been Chris’ first love. But it had been unrequited, and he’d eventually given up on his feelings. If he was being honest, he still nursed a little soft spot for his old friend, but the flames were gone.

The pair had fought hard to be promoted. In doing so, they’d had to part ways. BamBam had been transferred to another division, leaving Chris to fend for himself. Thankfully, the countless extra hours Chris had put in, combined with his hours at home obsessing over a case, had meant he’d solved them quickly. Soon he found other Detectives were asking him for advice, and found himself eagerly assisting other Detectives with their cases. Just when he’d thought his loneliness had reached a breaking point, Chris had been reassigned, partnered with a Constable of his own – Changbin Seo.

Changbin and Chris had clicked instantly. Chris liked Changbin’s odd sense of humour and loved any off chance he had to hear Changbin’s giggle. Chris would doggedly follow a case until it was done, often forgoing sleep for several days. He was good at looking at a case holistically, but often missed small details. Changbin, meanwhile, was _extremely_ good with details, but would often get stuck in them. They balanced each other out well. They’d made a great team. So much so, that both of them had been promoted. Chris had almost been poached by another station. The promotion had been a way of keeping Chris from moving – not that he was complaining. He hadn’t wanted to leave Changbin behind, after all the years they’d spent together.

That was when Han had joined them. Han had finished his training, which had taking a gruelling two years. In that time, Chris had become a DI, meaning that as well as sticking with Changbin, he’d be assigned a new Constable. Chris had never forgotten the way that Han’s eyes had lit up when he’d been told he was getting reassigned to Chris.

Together, the three had become a formidable team. Han was insightful and good at seeing the whole picture, like Chris, but also had Changbin’s knack for incorporating details. He did tend to be quite spontaneous and was prone to acting without thinking. Jokingly, after a round of drinks at the local bar, Changbin had coined a name for them – 3Racha. It had stuck, to the point that whenever the three of them were required for a case, their superiors would ask for 3Racha.

“You alright, Chris?” Chris ran straight into Han, stumbling back as he was jerked from his thoughts. Han held him at arm’s length, searching his face. “You’re out of it today, man.” Chris wet his lips with his tongue, trying to ignore the way that Han’s eyes followed the movement. Han’s voice was gentle, and soft. It made Chris’ heart melt a little.

“Just thinking.” He admitted. Han raised an eyebrow at this, and Chris heaved an exaggerated sigh. “About you, actually.” Han flushed bright red. Chris tried not to smirk. Sometimes it was hard to ignore the effect he seemed to have on Han. Chris had chalked it up to hero worship. As the years had gone on and they’d become friends, Chris had just continued to wave it off. It was implausible to him that Han would have feelings towards him. It was just admiration, and Han got embarrassed easily. They were just very close.

Besides, Han was a catch. He was intelligent, well-groomed, funny, and had an incredible smile. Then there was Chris, who always showed up with a wrinkled shirt and a mussed bedhead, who poured his life into his work – so much so that he barely saw the outside world unless he was out on a case. Yeah, that just _screamed_ emotionally available, didn’t it? Han deserved better than that.

So he continued to brush off every catch in Han’s breath when their hands touched. He pointedly ignored the way Han would become speechless whenever Chris ruffled his hair. He kept telling himself it was nothing. Most days, he believed it. But sometimes he couldn’t help but indulge himself in the _what if._

“O-oh.” Han was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. “C-cool. Yeah. Uh. Cool. We should – go.” Han turned on his heel, pulling Chris along with him, muttering about being late. But Chris just smiled. His Constable could be so cute sometimes. Not that Han needed to know he thought so, of course.

✧✧✧

As soon as they stepped foot into the station, Han knew something was off. It was oddly quiet. Usually the station was bustling by now. Han felt himself begin to tense. He felt a hand land on his shoulder and looked up to see Chris smiling at him.

“Come on, Hannie.” Chris murmured. The two hurried up the stairs, practically taking them two at a time. While the rest of the station had seemed like it was on lockdown, the homicide department was chaos. Mondays were normally messy, so it was understandable. Detectives were rushing around, having just been assigned their cases for the day. Han narrowed his eyes as he saw their resident pathologist practically sprinting into the Superintendent’s office. There were a few more PCs than normal, all scrambling after Detectives, arms full of paperwork. It looked hectic.

And as per usual, there was Changbin, standing firm in the middle of it all. He had a scowl on his face and was barking at two Constables. Two strangely familiar Constables.

“Oh, _fuck.”_ Han hissed, and he watched as Chris’ brows creased together in confusion. “That’s Hyunjin and Seungmin.” It had been years since he’d seen the pair. Seungmin he hadn’t minded. They’d gotten along well, at times. Han knew that one day Seungmin would be one to rise fast through the ranks. But Hyunjin and Han had always been rivals. It was always a race to see who could run the fastest, get the best scores, or solve the most cases in training.

Hyunjin had always been just behind Han. When Chris had come to the station that day, Hyunjin had tried so hard to impress him. But in the end, it was Han who had gained Chris’ attention, without really seeming to try. Hyunjin had always gone on and on about his dream to one day become a Detective. Han had felt a little guilty about taking that away from him, but realised that if Chris had seen enough potential in Hyunjin, he would’ve picked the other man instead.

Hyunjin and Han had had one last confrontation on Han’s last day as a uniformed officer. Hyunjin had cornered him, jabbing a finger into his chest, demanding to know how he’d blackmailed Chris, one of the best up and coming Detectives. Han had, quite childishly, told him that Hyunjin should fuck off, because he was destined to always be second.

He desperately hoped that Hyunjin didn’t remember that little comment.

“Should I know them?” Chris rubbed his jaw, his eyes sparking with curiosity. Han winced. There was no way he’d be able to avoid this one.

“They were in my year at the academy.” He began, and Chris raised an eyebrow. “Hyunjin was mad when I got moved to CID.” Han murmured. He jumped when he felt Chris’ hand resting gently on the small of his back. He felt his breath stutter in his throat at the close contact, and prayed that his Inspector hadn’t noticed. He looked at up Chris, who smiled sweetly at him, a smile he seemed to reserve only for Han. He took a deep breath. If he had Chris next to him, he knew he’d be fine.

Then Chris leaned down and began whispering in Han’s ear, sending him spiralling all over again. It was rude, quite frankly. Han was trying to compose himself, not turn into a stammering mess over something as small as Chris’ proximity.

“Good thing no one messes with my Constable except for me, hey?” Han _squeaked_ at this and he felt a wave of heat rushing through his body. Chris’ breath was warm against his ear. His Inspector’s voice was still a little rough, as it often was in the mornings. It made Han wonder what it would be like to hear Chris in his full sleepy glory, first thing in the morning. Han could run his hands through his Inspector’s hair, or nestle closer to him, tangling their fingers together, and –

He almost choked on his spit at the direction his train of thought was heading.

“Come on, looks like Binnie’s already reined them in enough. I think they have more than you to be worried about, Han.” Han nodded dumbly, still trying to recover. He watched as Chris slid his hands into his pockets and strode over to Changbin. Han trailed behind him, trying to inconspicuously take deep breaths to still his racing heart. “Morning.” Chris flashed the three men before him an easy smile. Changbin’s scowl faded a little, and he gave Chris a nod. “I haven’t seen you two around before.” Chris turned to Hyunjin and Seungmin. Han watched as Seungmin’s mouth dropped as his eyes filled with recognition. Hyunjin, meanwhile, pulled himself up to his full height, flashing Chris a winning smile. Chris returned with one of his own, almost lazily. Han crossed his fingers – and toes, for good measure – trying to hide behind Chris’ muscular frame.

“Inspector, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” Hyunjin practically _purred_ , and Han found himself bristling. He shot Hyunjin a glare from where he lurked behind Chris. Curse Hyunjin for being a bisexual asshole, and not a straight one. It meant that they had something in common, which made Han shudder to think about. And besides, it also meant that Hyunjin was _competition._

Chris had come out to Han and Changbin about a year after they’d all been partnered together. Han had _loathed_ how his heart had filled with hope at the news. He’d always nursed a soft spot for Chris, but it had grown to a full-blown crush when his treacherous brain made him think he’d actually have a chance.

And lately, Han had allowed himself to think that maybe Chris wasn’t so far out of reach after all. There were the small smiles he delegated only to Han, and the way he was so excited to see Han show up at his doorstep every morning. It was in the way he casually slung his arm over Han’s shoulders, or would never fail to treat Han cheesecake if 3Racha solved a case. Seeing Hyunjin so blatantly trying to lay claim to who Han had been chasing after for half a decade made his blood boil.

“Nice to meet you – I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” Chris was gauging Hyunjin with interest, and Han felt jealousy curl in his stomach. He suddenly felt self-conscious. Hyunjin had looked good in uniform, but he looked even better in a suit. He wasn’t wearing his tie – Han could see it poking out of his pocket. His top button was undone. Hyunjin looked good, and he knew it. And Han…well, he absolutely hated it. He knew _he’d_ never manage to look that good. But Hyunjin looked almost as good as Chris. And no one would _ever_ look better than Chris did in a suit.

“Detective Constable Hyunjin Hwang, Inspector.” Chris held out his hand for Hyunjin to shake. “But please, call me Hyunjin.”

“Ah, I remember you, actually.” Hyunjin’s eyes lit up at this. “I’m assuming you remember me, then?” Hyunjin clasped Chris’ hand with both of his, and Han rolled his eyes as he watched Hyunjin lower his lashes. Such blatant flirting, with a _senior_ officer, no less. Only Hyunjin would be able to get away with it. Han didn’t have the guts for it. Every time he so much as _tried_ to wink at Chris, he became a mess. All he could do was grumble to himself, throwing glares at the other Constable.

“Of course, Inspector, I’d never forget a face like yours.” Han knew that if anyone looked at him, it was obvious that he was sulking. It was Hyunjin’s first day on the job, and he’d already managed to get under Han’s skin. Changbin coughed into his hand, and Chris blinked owlishly at him. Han decided that if Hyunjin decided to go for one of those intimate little handshakes again, he’d endeavour to give him a black eye. Professionalism be damned, Chris was _Han’s_ Inspector and maybe-hopefully-possibly future boyfriend. Hyunjin could get lost. 

“Tell me, Hyunjin, why were you bothering my Sergeant? He seems a little…pressed.” Han felt like high-fiving Chris in that moment. He made sure to get a good look at Hyunjin’s face as the smirk slid right off it and tried not to let the glee show too much on his face. One look at Changbin told him that he’d failed, though, because the Sergeant was watching him with a raised eyebrow. The Sergeant’s expression clearly read _you’re not subtle, and I’m tired of putting up with this sort of dumb shit, Han._

“These two were wandering around like a gaggle of lost geese.” Changbin muttered darkly to Chris, and a hint of fear crept onto Hyunjin’s face. “It was _embarrassing._ I was telling them to find something to do before I kick them out for making me cross-eyed.”

_“Ah._ ” Chris hummed in thought. “Well, boys, first day on the job. Can’t get to anything too exciting just yet.” Changbin grunted in agreement. “Unless…” Changbin groaned at this, crossing his arms over his chest. Han narrowed his eyes in confusion. He didn’t miss the way Chris’ mouth was quirked at one corner. “Who are you partnered with, Constables?”

“Detective Inspector Park, sir.” That was Seungmin’s voice. Chris grinned at this.

“Ah, good old Jihyo. She’ll whip you two into shape in no time.” Chris paused for a moment, biting his bottom lip as he lapsed into thought. “Now that I think about it, there are some files I’m sure she’d love for you to look over…” Han had to bite down on his lip to keep himself from laughing. He watched as understanding dawned on Changbin’s face. Soon Changbin was pretty much shaking, trying not to laugh. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Constables. If you just go and see Jihyo, and tell her I sent you, she’ll understand.” Chris patted Hyunjin’s back, giving him a little push. Seungmin and Hyunjin pretty much tripped over themselves to go and find Jihyo.

“See you soon, Inspector!” Hyunjin turned to shoot Chris a wink before hurrying after Seungmin. Han pouted again. Maybe if he was that smooth and confident with his words, Chris would have fallen for him by now.

“That was actually pretty smart.” Changbin gave Chris a high-five, grinning at him. “Get someone to do our paperwork for us? Genius.” Chris smiled lazily at him.

“Don’t flatter me too much, Binnie.” Chris pushed his hair back. “You know how much you hate it when I get cocky.” Changbin snorted. Chris turned to Han, his smile blinding.

“Well? Did I do a good job at protecting you?” Han just blinked at him for a moment. Then it dawned on him. Chris could’ve just sent them away, probably putting Hyunjin in a bad mood. Hyunjin probably would have noticed Han and tried to dig into him. This way, even if Hyunjin did run into Han later, all Han had to do was drop Chris’ name and Hyunjin would leave him alone. And, as Changbin had pointed out, less paperwork. All earlier turmoil Han had felt was thrown out the window as Chris ruffled his hair. Sometimes he wished Chris cared a little bit less and was a whole lot less of an angel. Chris pulling caring stunts like this made him fall a little bit deeper for him every time.

“Inspector.” Han turned to find the Chief Superintendent beckon to Chris. The smile was instantly wiped from Chris’ face. His rank was never usually used in the station. Everyone was on a first name basis, unless something was wrong. The Superintendent looked grim. “Can I borrow you for a moment?”

“Of course, sir.” Han looked between the two men, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach. Chris clapped a hand onto his shoulder and nodded to Changbin before striding over to the Superintendent, slipping into his office.

“What do you think that was about?” Changbin had an eyebrow raised. Han thought back to his earlier feeling of unease. Something wasn’t right.

✧✧✧

“Have a seat, Chris.” Chris slid into one of the plush chairs at his superior’s desk. Chris began to jiggle his leg, anxious to find out why he’d been called in by himself. Usually Changbin and Han went with him. This was new.

“Everyone else is busy with their own cases. I’ve known you long enough to trust your judgement. And this case…you’re going to need a good team.” Chris watched as his superior ran a hand through his hair. The other man looked pale. Chris felt his heartbeat begin to pick up. “We all know 3Racha is becoming one of the best.” Chris couldn’t help but smile at this. He would be endlessly proud of Han and Changbin, and how far they had come.

“My partners and I can handle it, no matter what.” Chris pushed his shoulders back. He was confident in his team. The older man offered him a pained smile. “Sir – Superintendent– we can _do_ this.”

“See for yourself.” A manila folder was pushed towards him. Chris didn’t hesitate to flip it open. His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. He felt bile rise in his throat. The pictures were horrific. He hadn’t seen a case this bad in a while. A man was lying prone on the ground, bloodstained and broken. It was nothing Chris hadn’t seen before.

But there were odd marks on the victim’s arms and neck. His eyes narrowed in confusion. “Rupert Tailor. Thirty-nine. Most average man you could ever hope to meet. Body was discovered last night at eleven, by one of our favourite local boys.” Chris sighed at this. Probably another dealer they then had to throw away as they’d given the police useful information. At this rate, the prisons would all be empty.

As Chris flipped through to the closeups of the body, he felt his stomach begin to churn as he realised what he was seeing. _Bite_ marks. From human teeth. Chris looked up at the Superintendent, eyes wide. “He was stabbed. He bled out.” Chris winced at this. “And then…well, I’m sure you can guess what happened next.”

The Superintendent turned his computer screen to Chris, pressing play on a piece of footage. “Unfortunate that a civilian had to witness this in order to get the video.” The video began with camera fixed on the ground, then loud, heavy breathing – probably the witness. Then Chris narrowed his eyes. There was an odd noise in the background. He leaned forwards, straining to make out what it was. It was a peculiar noise: a muffled, wet panting, occasionally punctuated by an odd, dull tearing noises. It sounded like someone was…eating. He tensed.

As the witness drew closer to the sound, Chris recognised the body of the victim instantly. But that wasn’t what was catching attention. A wave of nausea and pure, unadulterated disgust washed over him. A scrawny man, his hair greasy and unkempt, was tearing at the skin on Tailor’s arm. The man suddenly turned and made direct eye contact with the camera. Blood was running down his neck, and his eyes were wild. The Superintendent paused the video. “That’s pretty much where it stops.” Chris looked down at the folder again.

“With…all due respect, sir. You don’t really need me for this. You have your guy. You just need to find him. You could get a team of good Sergeants for that, maybe some Constables. Hell, some PCs could do it.” Wordlessly, the Superintendent motioned for Chris to go through the photos again. Chris sifted through them. It was all bitemarks, or knife wounds, or…his eyes narrowed. One of the photos was of a closeup of Tailor’s thigh. It looked like something had been carved into the flesh. For some reason, it seemed…oddly familiar. He felt a chill run down his spine. Chris sat back in his chair and whistled softly.

“See it?”

“It’s…a letter. _G_ , right?” Chris pushed his hair back and bit down on his lip. Just when he’d thought his life was starting to get too simple. “I wonder what it means.”

“I don’t know if he’d be coherent enough to have the time or motor function for something like that.” The Superintendent continued. “All of the other wounds are sloppy. There’s no way he would be so clumsy, leaving his DNA everywhere, carelessly getting seen, and then decide he’d have time to do some calligraphy.” Finally, it was beginning to dawn on Chris.

“You think this is part of something bigger.” Chris murmured. “You think our guy is taking the fall for the real rat?”

“If I’m right, he’s no rat.” The Superintendent’s eyes flashed. “He’s a snake.” Chris’ mind was fixed on the image in front of him. He _knew_ that from somewhere. Why did he know it? “Chris, I want you to go back to the crime scene. Go from there. If we find nothing, fine, we got our guy. But this stinks.” Chris nodded. His head was beginning to throb. He’d definitely need another coffee. His head was swimming. He was usually fine with four hours of sleep, but…maybe he really _had_ been pushing himself too much lately.

“Of course, sir.” He gathered up the photos and the rest of the files, tucking the folder under his arm. Chris swallowed hard. He got to his feet, digging his fingers into the chair to give himself some support. He felt nauseous. “I’ll report to you in a couple days.” With that, he pretty much rushed out of the door. Chris felt like he was in a trance as he made his way over to his partners. His head was pounding now, and his heart was racing. He felt a sheen of sweat begin to form on his forehead. Han immediately got to his feet, reaching out to put a hand on Chris’ shoulder.

“Chris?” Usually Chris considered himself quite good at concealing his emotions. This time, though, he was shaken.

“My office.” He muttered. He felt like he was swimming through treacle as he trudged towards his office. Chris waited until his partners were seated before shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the door, taking a deep breath. He wiped the cold sweat off his forehead.

“Chris?” That was Han again. Chris made a strangled noise as he sank to his knees, his vision begin to shake and blur.

_A young man lay prone on the street, his eyes missing from their sockets, a ‘G’ carved into his chest. Chris was so scared. So confused. Who could have done this? He started shaking. The stench of blood was thick in the air. He could almost taste it. He heard screaming. Who was screaming? Was he the one screaming?_

_“Shh…” A soft voice flowed through his ears as a young boy pulled him into a hug. The boy began to stroke Chris’ hair. But all Chris could think of was the corpse. “It’s alright, I’m here. You’re safe.” Chris finally melted into the embrace, burying his face into the boy’s neck._

Chris woke up to Changbin’s ear on his chest and Han’s hands cupping his face. He struggled to sit up, pushing his partners off him. He was breathing hard, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He tore at his scarf, ripping it off his neck.

“You’re alive!” Han seemed to be forcing himself not to give Chris a hug. Chris winced when he saw Han’s eyes fall to his neck, widening in what was most likely disgust. He snatched up the scarf and wrapped it around his neck. Changbin gave Chris a _look,_ and Chris knew that the Sergeant had sensed that Chris had had another flashback.

“Sorry – I – I was just really tired. Didn’t have breakfast either, haha.” He shook his head, desperately trying to clear it. He blinked rapidly. Was that…a memory? He’d seen the boy in his dreams before. Chris had always just figured that they were dreams, but it would be too great of a coincidence. He felt a chill run down his spine. If this had happened before, then that meant there would be a pattern. And there he was, probably with the all the answers, but they were locked away inside his head. Or worse – gone entirely.

“Chris, what the fuck happened in there?” That was Changbin, snapping him out of his thoughts. Chris felt like his head was about to explode.

“The new case.” He whispered. He picked up the folder, which had fallen to the floor, and thrust it at Changbin. “It…brought up some things.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “How much do you know about my amnesia, Hannie?” Han’s eyes widened, and Changbin muttered a string of curses under his breath.

“Are more memories coming back?” Han’s voice was low. Chris nodded, numb. He reached out to gently ruffle Han’s hair. Han’s eyes flickered shut, and Chris let his hand linger, a wave of calm washing over him at the familiar movement. He forced himself to inhale deeply. He let his hand slide down the side of Han’s neck, giving the Constable’s shoulder a squeeze. Han’s presence was safe, familiar. He didn’t want to let go just yet. But the new case was weighing heavy on his mind. He couldn’t afford to waste any time.

“Help me up, someone.” He murmured. In the end, both of them pulled him to his feet, supporting him before he sank into the chair by his desk. When they were all sitting around his desk, Chris buried his head in his hands. “Sometimes…some memories come back. All the dizzy spells I’ve had, or when I’ve had to disappear suddenly – it’s probably because of a flashback. The doctors don’t know if my memories will ever fully come back, but sometimes I get small snippets. They can be triggered by scenery, or smells, or similar events.” He swallowed down a lump in his throat. He shifted uncomfortably, realising how eerily similar the corpse in his memory was to Tailor’s.

“I’m sorry.” Han murmured, and Chris merely shook his head.

“Usually I just feel out of it. I haven’t passed out like that in maybe…two years?” He shook his head and sighed. “It’s probably because I’m tired.” He knew that Changbin wasn’t buying his excuses one bit. Chris took the folder back from Changbin, opening it and spreading the photos out across their desk. Han was biting down on his bottom lip, while Changbin’s eyes were running over the images slowly, eager to absorb every detail. A soft gasp left Han’s lips. “Meet our new victim. Rupert Tailor. They’ve already got the guy. Not in custody yet, but there’s video footage. DNA, of course, in the saliva.” Chris told him, and Han just nodded.

“So…we have a lot of evidence to work with.” Han began, sounding confused. “I don’t get what there is for us to solve.”

“It’s all got to do with this, I’m guessing?” Changbin was jabbing a finger at the image of the ‘ _G’_ carved onto Tailor’s thigh. Han leaned forwards, eyes wide.

“Exactly. Chief doesn’t think it’s quite so cut and dry. Even if it’s a dead end, he wants it investigated.” There was a pause.

“Chris…are you sure you’re alright?” Han’s voice was small. He seemed a bit overwhelmed by all of the information. Chris knew he was probably having conflicting emotions. Han was torn between caring about Chris, his friend, and getting into Detective mode.

“Spit it out.” Changbin’s voice was soft. “I know there’s something else.”

“See that mark, on Tailor’s leg?” Han’s jaw dropped as Chris pointed it out to him. Changbin’s dark eyes had become stormy. “I’ve seen it before.” The Sergeant’s face went white. Chris didn’t want to admit it, but seeing Changbin’s face, he just couldn’t rid himself of the possibility…

“That was the flashback you had, wasn’t it?” Chris should have anticipated this. Changbin was an expert at picking up on details. Adding to that, he was extremely intelligent and observant. Of course this wasn’t going to slip past the Sergeant. “This can’t be a coincidence.” Changbin ran a hand through his hair. “You wake up from a traumatic brain injury with amnesia, unable to remember who attacked you. Then this happens. A bizarre murder with a side order of cannibalism. And you _remember_ something about it.” Changbin crossed his arms over his chest. “You were involved somehow.”

“I hate coincidences too, Binnie.” Chris laughed, but it felt hollow. “We need to get started. _Now._ ” He could have breathed a sigh of relief as he felt himself slipping back into his work mode. As an Inspector, he was firm, cool, and collected. He could do this. He _had_ to. “Binnie, tell Jihyo that we need her Sergeants to do some door-to-door for us and any other DCs that we can spare. I want to know what happened in every house, every second of the last forty-eight hours before Tailor’s death. Get Sana to keep an eye out for any cases that have raised some eyebrows in the past fortnight. Ask her if she can go through old case files, looking for anything that was really bizarre like this. We’ll meet you outside.” Changbin nodded, striding towards the door.

“You haven’t heard the last of this, Chris.” He called over his shoulder. “I’m going to worry about you one way or another.” Chris smiled wryly at this. He knew that Jihyo and Sana would probably aid Changbin in hounding Chris for answers. As soon as Changbin so much as said the word ‘flashback’, the pair would be on high alert.

“Hannie, with me.” Han didn’t move. He was staring at his hands. “Han, come on.” Chris was impatient to get going, to forget about the mess in his brain for a little while.

“Chris…do you think you’re in danger?” Chris’ heart stopped for a moment. He swallowed hard. He could tell Han the truth – that he was shit scared, and he didn’t know what he was going to find. But he was the Inspector. He was their leader. He had to make sure Han didn’t feel like he was following a broken compass. So he flashed Han a weak smile, forcing his shoulders to relax.

“I don’t know yet. Good thing I have you to protect me.” Han seemed to sense that Chris wouldn’t be broaching the subject anymore and got to his feet.

“What, from Hyunjin?” This made Chris laugh for real.

“I thought he was going to try and eat me alive.” Chris tapped his chin, smirking. “I mean, not that I’d mind.” Han glared at him, giving him a little shove.

“Don’t start.” Han whined. “Now I need to bleach my brain, thanks, Chris.”

“You’re welcome, Hannie.” Chris swung his leather jacket over his shoulder and stepped out into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there! this has been a long time coming.  
> i've currently got several chapters written, so will be updating every saturday! (or should i do twice a week?? let me know!!)  
> i really hope you are at least a little intrigued to see where this goes.  
> feel free to start some discussions in the comments, i'd love to know your thoughts as this continues!  
> thank you so much for reading.  
> see you next week!


	2. Enigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Channie-hyung? It's me, Minho."

_[Mysterious or difficult to understand.]_

_[“Wherever I go, you only hide.”]_

**Monday, noon**

“That’s a lot of blood.” Changbin commented. Chris surveyed the street, whistling softly.

“I hate to say it, but I think the poor bloke’s dead.” Han looked at him and rolled his eyes.

“Every time, Chris, really?” Han glared at Changbin, who was giggling. “Don’t encourage him, Binnie!” He watched as his partners high-fived, and groaned. “I’m the youngest, yet I feel like I’m babysitting. This is the _worst._ ” He sighed when the two decided to continue with their shenanigans, and chose to instead start surveying the ground. Not much was left of the crime scene. The scene of crime officers – SOCOs – who collected preliminary evidence, took photos, and cleared the area – had already been and gone.

He couldn’t see any obvious security cameras – it made sense, as they were in the backstreets. Here, everyone kept to themselves, and they hated cops. It explained why the street was so quiet. Han crouched down, surveying the area for any obvious entry and exit points the killer could have come from. Their culprit had probably struck with the element of surprise.

“There, Hannie.” That was Changbin, who had finally realised what he was looking for. Han’s gaze flicked to where Changbin was pointing – a narrow alleyway, obscured by shadows. Han nodded, and put his hand on the gun at his waist. He made his way over to the alley, Changbin hot on his heels. Han peered down the alleyway, his eyes narrowed in thought.

“Seems logical he could’ve been hiding here.” Han rubbed his chin in thought.

“Look.” Changbin was kneeling. There was a jacket discarded on the ground. Changbin pulled a pair of gloves out of a packet he kept in his coat. “Might match our guy.” Changbin began rifling through the pockets, his eyes flashing as he pulled out a tattered wallet, and a few scraps of paper. Changbin offered Han a pair of gloves. Han hurried to pull them on, taking the scraps paper carefully. His face twisted in confusion.

“Changbin.” He murmured. “We’re on Ale Street, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s written here.” Han jabbed a finger at the paper in his hand. “And here – _G._ But underneath it, there’s also a _B,_ and an _A,_ and a _C._ What do you think it means?” Han heard Changbin’s sharp intake of breath.

“It means the Chief was right. There’s something more to this than just an attack. Sounds like orders, doesn’t it?” Han swore under his breath.

“Maybe it’s to spell something out.” Changbin was nibbling on his bottom lip. “A code, possibly?” Han shrugged.

“More like Code Red on this guy. We need to get him in before he kills someone else.” Changbin pushed his hair back and sighed.

“Anything in the wallet?” Changbin shook his head and sighed.

“It’s empty.” Han pursed his lips together.

“Couple of stakeouts wouldn’t hurt.” Changbin was nodding at his words.

“If the guy who got Tailor did this, I’d be surprised.” Changbin was pulling his bottom lip back and forth through his teeth. “I mean, we saw the wounds. It was really sloppy. _And_ he got caught on video. Doesn’t scream criminal mastermind to you, does it?”

“We still need to get him, though.” Han muttered. “Whether he’s behind this, or just the lackey, he’s still going to hurt more people.”

“We’ve got a start, though. I’ll get Chris to –” Changbin was looking around, brows drawn together in confusion. “Wait – where the fuck is Chris?” Changbin looked around. Han felt a chill run down his spine. Changbin looked worried. If Changbin was concerned, Han knew that he should be scared. “It isn’t like him to go off without telling us.” Changbin’s eyes were narrowed. “Usually it’s us chasing after you.” Changbin attempted a smile. The joke fell flat as the tension in the air began to rise further. “Han, go and look for him while I call this in.” Han was already moving by the time Changbin finished his sentence. If Chris was in danger and got hurt, Han didn’t know what he’d do with himself.

✧✧✧

Chris had watched Han and Changbin make their way over to the alleyway and had decided to go look around as well. He wanted to know where their perp had made his escape. It had to be somewhere that was discrete, while still leading back to the city centre. He could’ve been anywhere by now. Chris dug his hands into his pockets, striding over to a storm drain. He couldn’t help but smile. Easy. Of course he would’ve escaped underground. Luckily for him, it seemed that their killer was predictable.

Now all Chris had to do was to find where he’d gone down. Maybe he’d left a manhole cover displaced, or scraps of clothing would be caught around a drain. There were several alleys and lanes that branched off of Ale Street, none of them really big enough to warrant a manhole cover. Maybe he’d run for longer than the Inspector had thought. Chris rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of some of the tension. It wouldn’t hurt to use some cadaver dogs. That way they could find where the killer had surfaced from the underground. But there was a chance that he was still lurking underground. 

That was when Chris saw a shadow flash by in his periphery. He whirled around. All he could see was Changbin and Han, still investigating the alley. Chris bit down on his lip, taking one last look at them before hurrying down the closest street. He stuck to the walls, trying to keep his breathing shallow and soft. He surveyed the street. He’d seen something – _someone._ It was probably just a kid or something, hiding from the police like they’d been taught, but he felt uneasy. Chris kept his back to the wall before rounding the corner. At first, he didn’t register anything out of the ordinary.

Then he took another step and found himself face to face with another man. His eyes widened and he flinched back. The man in front of him was dressed from head to toe in black. He was wearing a leather harness, which was lined with knife sheaths. The man’s face was hidden by a hood. Chris fumbled in his pocket for his badge.

“Police.” Chris began. “Who –” The stranger rushed forwards before Chris had enough time to even blink, slamming his back into the wall. Chris’ eyes locked with a pair of angry brown ones. He felt a strange flicker of recognition and his brows drew together in confusion. The man was slim, but lean, and quite strong. Chris struggled for breath as an arm was dug into his windpipe.

He struggled back against his attacker, gripping the man’s bicep to shove him away. Then a knife pricked against his stomach and he froze, realising it would be useless to move. He managed to painstakingly turn his head towards his attacker’s face. There were those brown eyes again. They were cold but, strangely, he didn’t feel afraid. Suddenly the eyes widened and began to travel over his face. Chris hardly dared to breathe. 

"Chan." The whisper fell from the stranger's lips, and he shoved the hood off his head. He had a youthful face that was unblemished, save for two long scars beginning at his chin and running down his neck. He had a gash on his left cheekbone. Chris had the strange urge to gently run his finger over the other’s man cheek. " _Channie."_ The young man repeated, as if he was praying. He looked like he was in shock. He removed his arm from Chris’ neck, instead cupping his jaw, his fingers gently ghosting over Chris’ face. Chris’ eyes travelled over the stranger’s face. He was stunning. Chris was awestruck.

Then the knife clattered to the ground, breaking the spell. Chris’ eyes widened as he realised how close he’d been to being fatally stabbed. He knew better than to move – he’d seen the array of knives that the stranger had strapped to his harness. He didn’t fancy a trip to the hospital today. Chris barely dared to breathe, his jaw almost creaking from the amount of force he was putting onto it to keep it shut. Finally, the other man paused. "Channie-hyung?" Questioning, this time. "It's me, Minho." The words uttered in a hushed whisper, and Chris was hit by another wave of confusion. 

"I-I'm sorry." He swallowed, feeling a stab of guilt as he saw how affronted his new acquaintance looked. "I don't know who either of those people are." The stranger – _Minho,_ Chris noted – froze. 

"What do you mean, Bang Chan?" The soft brown eyes that had just been filled with so much relief and joy had frozen over, becoming cold again. “Are you not Chan?” There was now stormy anger in those once-warm depths, and Chris fought the urge to cower. He lifted his chin and pulled himself up to his full height. Minho was looking at him expectantly, and he was scowling, clearly unimpressed. "Well?!" Minho demanded, eyes flashing.

"My name is Chris." The Detective offered, dropping his gaze from Minho’s. He couldn’t match the intensity in the other man’s stare.

“You look just like him – older, but that's expected, he'd have changed over time.” Minho was mumbling to himself, but Chris froze. 

"Wait – are you looking for him? This – this _Chan?_ " Another pang of recognition at the name. For some reason his stomach was sinking. Minho nodded, tapping his fingers against the wall. "Gone?" Chris’ voice sounded hollow to his own ears. Minho nodded again, clearly growing impatient. "For how long?" Chris was on autopilot. He didn't know how to react. It _couldn't_ be. There was no way someone was looking for him _now._ But he felt hope treacherously rise within him. Minho was looking at him like he'd gone mad. "How long?" Chris repeated, stronger this time. 

"For thirteen years." Minho intoned, and Chris felt all the blood drain from his face. He gripped the wall behind him for support. "Why does it matter?" Minho seemed to be out of patience. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you alright?" His voice was without compassion, but he sounded curious. Chris remembered the newcomer's fingers gently brushing his skin. It made him wonder how much this _Chan_ meant to Minho. And thirteen years...it was too close for comfort.

All he’d ever been told was that he’d just moved from Australia with his mother, and had been attacked. He’d never told anyone, but sometimes he swore that he vaguely remembered another place. Sometimes he remembered faces, and voices, but never anything concrete. As he’d gotten older, his mother’s behaviour had often raised a few warning signals, but he’d never pushed the issue.

It was things like how she’d kept claiming that she’d lost his birth certificate, and she always seemed to be in the process of getting him documents of identification. Getting his driver’s license had been a nightmare. Going into training had been even worse. As far as Chris knew, he was a nobody. It was the way he was absent from all databases. There was nothing. It was as if he’d never existed in the first place.

But Minho recognised him. That was too great of a coincidence to be pure chance. 

“I arrived here thirteen years again.” Chris’ throat was dry. Minho’s eyes widened at his words, and he moved towards the other man. “No memories to speak of, I didn’t even know my own name.” He felt himself a wave of dizziness wash over him so reached out and clutched Minho’s shoulder. “All I remember is waking up and thinking that I was going to die. I thought I'd _already_ died. And then… _nothing._ " Chris felt as if he was going to pass out. The ice in Minho's eyes melted away, and he lightly placed a hand on Chris’ hip, as if offering support. Once more there was that gentle expression on his face. Chris just couldn't figure him out. 

"Do you recognise me?" Minho murmured, and Chris raked his eyes over Minho’s face, trying to remember something – _anything_. But all he got was just the sense that _somehow_ he knew the other man. 

"I feel like I know you, but that's all." The bitter disappointment that flashed over Minho's face made Chris’ heart twist. 

"Show me your shoulder. Your left one." Minho demanded. Chris took a step back, his back hitting the wall behind him. Minho clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I need to see, I want to _know_." But he didn't offer any further information. Chris felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest as he realised what Minho might have been hoping to see. Chris slowly undid the top buttons on his shirt, tugging the fabric away to reveal a faded, silver scar on his left shoulder. " _Yes."_ Minho breathed, and with the same gentle movements as before, brushed his fingers against the scar. His eyes flew to the scarf around Chris’ neck. “Your neck – the scarf – is that because…?” Chris watched as Minho’s hands began to tremble. Chris nodded wordlessly. It seemed that Minho already knew about the scars on his neck. "It _is_ you." Minho's voice rose in excitement. "Channie, I can't believe I found you! After all this time, I –" But he froze as he saw the bemused expression on Chris’ face. Instantly, Minho’s expression became unreadable again. "I forgot." He spat, stepping away from Chris. "You don't...remember."

"Who is Bang Chan?" Chris breathed. "Please, Minho, tell me." He was begging now, but he couldn't care less. "Minho, I don't know anything of who I was, I need –" 

"You're from Korea. From Seoul." Chris’ eyes widened. "And you are your father's heir." At this, Minho’s expression became unreadable. 

"Heir? As if. To what?" Chris couldn’t help but laugh. This was so utterly ridiculous. He’d come from _nothing,_ as far as he was concerned. Then a stranger shows up, telling him he’s the son of some rich man. Great. He didn’t know how he was going to explain this one to Han and Changbin. They’d think he’d been hallucinating.

"Everything.” Minho’s eyes flashed, and the laughter died in Chris’ throat. “He as good as _owns_ Seoul. He runs it like a king. The King of Hell, as I like to think." Minho touched the scars on his chin, and his mouth twisted. "We can only hope that I don't get pulled up for that one." Chris’ eyes widened in horror, and his stomach dropped.

"You’re saying that my – my _father_ –" He nearly choked on the word. " _He_ did that to you?" Minho looked confused for a moment. Then he shook his head, and his expression became impassive.

"I forgot that you know nothing." Minho ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "How do you think you got those scars on your neck?" Chris’ hands flew to his neck.

"My...father." He repeated, tugging on his scarf. He resisted the urge to run his fingers over the plethora of scars on his throat. "I..." When he'd tried to picture what his biological father was like, he had never even considered someone like Minho was describing. Someone who sounded cruel and downright sadistic. He felt like he was suffocating. 

"You're different." Minho remarked, and Chris noticed that his voice had lost the gentle touch from before. He sounded suspicious, and hurt, like Chris’ very personality was an insult and betrayal. "Channie – Chan would just accept it. Or be angry. But you –"

"I'm not Chan anymore." Chris retorted, suddenly frustrated. He tangled his fingers in his hair and shoved past Minho. He needed air, he needed to breathe, he – "I told you, I can't – I can't remember, I can't." His throat constricted. "I can't, I can't, I _can't!_ " He'd thought the scars had come from whoever had assaulted him, rendering him with amnesia. But to think they had come from his own _father –_ Chris moaned as a headache began to build up behind his eyes. He fell to his knees, pressing his hands against his temples. He dimly heard Minho shouting something at him, but he felt like he was drowning. His vision darkened. 

_"I value obedience, my son, you of all people should know that."_ _The voice was cold, and yet so familiar. He was peering up at a man with eyes that were eerily similar to his own._ _Excruciating pain ripped through his neck and his hands flew to his throat, his nails clawing at his skin –_

" _Channie-hyung!_ " That was Minho's voice, ripping through the memory. Suddenly he found himself sitting against the wall, Minho pinning his arms to his sides. "Channie, I'm sorry." Minho's eyes were wide. The nickname felt so familiar, coming from Minho’s lips, and it scared Chris how he simply couldn’t _remember_.

"I – remembered something." Chris choked out, and Minho's grip tightened. "I saw – him. My father." His voice was shaking and his breath was loud and harsh. Minho clenched his jaw.

"I'm sorry." Minho repeated. "Chan, you need to breathe with me." Chris nodded jerkily, trying to get a grip on himself. He didn't have the heart to tell Minho to call him Chris. "Breathe in." Minho inhaled deeply, and Chris tried to copy him. "Out." Chris’ breath shuddered. "Again." Minho ordered, and Chris found himself obeying. Eventually his breathing evened out. "That's it, Chan." Minho soothed, gently running his fingers through Chris’ hair. Chris turned his face away.

"I'm sorry." He choked out, and Minho tensed. "I'm not – who you want me to be. I'm not your Chan. I'm just Chris." Chris hung his head, and Minho bit down on his lip. 

"I should have expected this." His voice was soft. "Thirteen years ago –" Minho released his arms, but didn't move away. "We were attacked." Chris’ head snapped up. Minho’s face was twisted in pain. "They went straight for you, they knew who you were. They used their fists on me, but started using their weapons on you." Chris closed his eyes, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. He could see it in his mind's eye. Two teenagers, desperately trying to fight off a group of cruel and faceless attackers. Cries of pain, blood splattering the ground, a _thud_ as they were kicked to the ground. "I tried to stop them, but I –" Minho inhaled deeply, his voice beginning to tremble with rage. "I was too weak. I passed out, and when I woke up, you were gone." The blatant self-hatred that permeated Minho’s voice twisted Chris’ stomach. "If anyone is sorry, it should be me. I hadn't even anticipated that you would be different, even though it’s been so long. I pushed too hard." Minho’s voice was soft. “I just can’t believe that I found you.” Chris opened his eyes then. Minho was looking at him with a mixture of awe and disbelief and something bordering on adoration. Chris reached up and gripped Minho's shoulder. 

"It's crazy." He agreed. This was a lot to take in at once. "There was no record of me at all, here. I'd always tried to imagine what my family was like, what my life was like before. My mother ignored every question I had about my past." Minho nodded in understanding. "But why now?" Minho remained silent, and Chris persisted. "Why did you only come here now?"

"Your father has…your father needs you.” Minho’s voice was monotonous. Chris felt his skin begin to crawl. "He sent me here." He tried to suppress a shudder. He thought of the man he'd seen in that quick flash of memory watching him. Observing him from afar, watching his life play out on a screen. He knew if he continued to delve into this, he could get in over his head. Minho was watching him with a gentle expression on his face. Chris felt his stomach lurch. Now he knew why Minho was so incredibly familiar.

The young boy that was always present in his flashbacks had the exact same eyes as Minho. His breath caught in his throat as all of the other flashbacks he’d had crashed into his vision like a stack of bricks. Most of the time, the boy had been there with him. Sometimes, the memories had been nice – he’d been laughing with the young boy, or they’d been smiling at each other. Most often, the memories were dark and traumatic, full of tears and blood and screams. But whenever Chris had felt terror in those memories, the boy had been there, holding his hand or hugging him. As Chris searched Minho’s eyes, he had no doubt in his mind that the boy and Minho were one and the same. His heart ached. Chris had always thought that the boy had been like a guardian angel. And now he was standing right in front of him.

"Minho," Chris murmured. "Were we...friends?" Minho froze, and looked away from him.

"Yes." He answered tersely. "You could say that." Chris’ eyes widened at this news. There was a lot he could glean from that single piece of information. He thought over the earlier titbits of information. As Chan, it sounded like he had kept to himself, isolating himself from the world. He sounded cold, someone who had a strong distrust of the world and people around him, probably because of his father.

Yet somehow, he'd formed a bond with the enigmatic Minho. A friendship strong enough that, even more than a decade later, Minho still looked at Chris as if he was someone precious to him. Now Minho was here, far from home, because of _him_. Chris knew without a doubt that Minho hadn't just come because he'd been ordered to. He wondered how long Minho had been here, keeping watch on him. His eyes widened. Minho might know about Tailor’s death. His heart leapt with excitement. 

"Minho, do you know anything about –" But he was cut off by a roar coming down the street.

" _CHRIS!_ " Han yelled, and footsteps pounded towards them. The Constable barrelled around the corner, his chest heaving. Minho jerked away from Chris and within moments he had knives in both hands. He stood protectively over Chris, muscles bunched, looking like he could strike at any moment. "Drop your weapons." Han demanded, eyes blazing. Chris was stunned. Han wasn’t a stranger to combat – Chris had seen Han hold his own when some confrontations had gone awry. He’d promised Chris he’d be well-armed today, promised he would be able to take care of himself. It had put Chris at ease earlier, but now he was on edge. Han was easily controlled by his emotions, which became dangerous when his friends and weapons were involved.

But he couldn’t remember ever seeing Han so…scary, if he was being honest. Usually Changbin was the intimidating one. Chris sometimes lost his temper if it was a sensitive case, and the culprits were scum. Chris had seen Han when he was upset, or mad, but he had never been like _this_. He hadn’t known that his Constable was capable of such extreme rage. Minho bared his teeth, scowling at Han. Han lunged at him, wielding his metal baton, but Minho ducked under his arm. Minho rammed his elbow into Han’s abdomen, using the distraction to push Chris further behind him.

"Minho –" Chris began, but Minho barely spared him a glance. Han was desperately whispering into his radio. Finally, Minho glanced over his shoulder, shooting Chris a tiny smile.

"I'm protecting you." Minho murmured. Chris clenched his jaw. "Those are my orders." Chris nodded in understanding, reaching out to place a hand gingerly on Minho’s arm. Han was watching the two of them, his hands curling into fists.

“Chris, what the fuck is going on?” Han was breathing hard. Chris could tell that his friend was holding himself back. The other Detective was quivering, his hands clenched so tightly that his fingers were white.

“I could ask the same.” Minho intoned, shifting closer to Chris.

"Minho, Han is my friend – my colleague." That did nothing. Minho didn't move. "He works with me, he’s my partner. He thinks _you're_ going to kill me. I'm in no danger, I promise." The anger had shifted from Han’s expression during the exchange and now he simply looked confused. "I'm okay, Hannie. Minho isn't a threat." Chris looked around Minho and offered his friend a reassuring smile.

"You know him?" Han shot him a quizzical look.

"Let's just call it a…reunion of sorts." Chris told him, stepping forwards until he was at Minho’s side. He gave Minho’s shoulder a squeeze. The other man froze. Chris held his breath. It seemed like hours passed before Minho finally relaxed. Minho made eye contact with him, his tense expression beginning to soften. He looked calm. Chris smiled at him. Finally, now he could begin to explain –

And that was when Han made the mistake of shoving Minho to the side, reaching out towards him. Minho reacted within seconds, crouching down and sweeping Han’s legs out from under him. Han hit the ground with a _thud_ and a grunt of pain. He rolled onto his side and glared at Minho. 

"Oh, _fuck_ no." Han growled, shoving himself to his feet. He brandished his baton threateningly. Minho cocked his head to one side and smirked. Chris felt his stomach clench. Han wanted to injure Minho, sure, but just enough to temporarily incapacitate him. Minho, meanwhile, was following the orders of someone who hadn’t shied away from torturing his own flesh and blood. Han was capable, but Minho was dangerous.

Chris knew without a doubt that would have been ordered to kill anyone who posed a threat to him. And Han was reacting based on impulse, while Minho was calculating and logical. There was no contest in Chris’ mind as to who would win the fight. Han stumbled to his feet, panting. He began lunging at Minho, but the older man was faster, easily avoiding the baton whistling through the air. Eventually Han was going to tire, and that was when Minho would strike. It sent a chill down Chris’ spine. They were face to face with a trained killer. Someone who would not hesitate to take a life. 

“Minho, _stop._ ” Chris begged. Minho froze, but only for a second. “Minho, stop! You’re going to hurt him!” He reached forwards, trying to latch onto Minho’s arm, but Minho shook him off.

“Worry about yourself, Chris!” Han was holding his side, wheezing.

"Chan." Minho warned as he spun and send his foot right into Han’s side. "Stay out of this." Han grunted in pain and adjusted his grip on his weapon.

"He's not a threat." Chris begged, but he knew it was falling on deaf ears. "Han, drop your weapon!" Han glanced over at him, looking at him like he was insane.

"No! Chris, he’s trying to _kill_ you." Han bared his teeth as he scowled. “There’s no way I’m letting him hurt you.”

"Hannie, Hannie, he won't." Chris pleaded, desperate for the fight to be over. Han’s gaze met Chris’ briefly. Chris watched as Han’s eyes sparked, burning with an emotion so intense and fierce and _fiery_ that he couldn’t even begin to decipher it. The distraction was enough for Minho to slam his boot into the back of Han’s knee. The Constable cried out in pain as he fell to the ground. Minho’s knives glinted almost mockingly, and fear raced through Chris’ body. He had to stop Minho – he _had_ to, but how?

_"I value obedience, my son."_

The words cut through his panic like a knife through warm butter, and he shuddered. Chris remembered Minho touching the scars on his chin. He thought about the scars on his neck. They were the cruel reminders of what happened if his father was faced with disobedience. Chris knew he wasn’t going to agree with it, but right now he could think of no other way.

"He can’t hurt you.” Chris muttered under his breath. “Not if I order him not to.” Chris took a deep breath, hating himself for what he was about to do. It was underhanded. But he didn’t know any other way to save Han. “Minho!" He barked. Chris watched as Minho stiffened, his arm raised. "I – I order you to _stand down!_ " Silence. A pin dropping would have been deafening. Minho turned to look at him slowly, eyes filled with shock. He shuddered, and clenched his jaw.

"Chan." He murmured, mostly to himself. He stepped away from Han and sheathed his knives. He stepped around Han and knelt on the ground before Chris. Minho turned his head to the side, and the scars on his face seemed to mock Chris, whose stomach was churning. "I apologise for my disobedience." Minho’s voice was lifeless. "I live to serve." It sounded like a chant, something rehearsed a billion times before. A chill ran down Chris’ spine. He felt sick. There was no denying it. His past was catching up with him, and suddenly he didn't know if he wanted to regain his memories anymore. "I live to serve." Minho repeated, still on the ground. Chris watched in horror as Minho retrieved one of his knives and offered it to him. When Chris didn't take the knife, Minho dropped it at his feet.

"Stop it!" He ordered, and Minho froze again. Chris felt his stomach begin to churn. He hated that Minho expected Chris to physically punish him. "Put the knife away – that's an order, Minho." To his surprise, Minho was silent as he sheathed the blade once more. Minho looked up at him, his eyes wide, full of confusion and a hint of fear. In that moment, Chris pitied him, but he quickly he shook it away. Somehow, he suspected that Minho hated pity. "I’m sorry, I – I didn’t know how else to stop you.” Chris whispered, his eyes flitting over to Han. He wanted so badly to go and comfort his Constable, but he had to make sure that Minho wouldn’t attack anyone else. 

"You _are_ remembering." Minho remarked, and Chris shrugged. "Even if you don't fully, your subconscious does." He explained, and Chris realised he was right. The order had come too easily to him. The stance he'd just held had somehow felt natural. It was like his body already knew what to do and was waiting for his brain to catch up. Chris offered Minho a hand up. Minho just stared for a second in disbelief before grabbing Chris’ hand, letting the Detective pull him to his feet. Minho held his gaze with an intensity that made Chris want to look away. Something was niggling at the back of his mind. He felt as though he'd been in this situation before. 

"Minho –" He began, but that was when Han got to his feet. Minho's face twisted into a scowl. 

"What's going on?" Han demanded, looking between Chris and Minho, desperately trying to understand. "Chris, get away from him. You saw him, he's dangerous." Minho scoffed at this.

"He is in my care." Minho retorted, lifting his chin. "At the moment, _you_ are the dangerous one." Chris caught Han’s eye. His Constable looked hurt, and not just because Minho had kicked him in the solar plexus.

“When were you going to tell me all of this?” Han asked softly, and Chris clenched his hands into fists.

"I just met him." Han raised an eyebrow. “I swear, Han. But he _knows_ me. He knows who I am." Han’s eyes widened, before he scowled.

"And you believed him just like that?" Chris felt his chest tighten. “Come away from him.” Despite the bravado on Han’s face, the Constable’s voice wavered.

"That isn't for you to decide." Minho cut in, and Han rolled his eyes. Han turned around, murmuring into his walkie again. Chris squeezed Minho’s shoulder, before making his way over to Han’s side. But he stopped in his tracks, blood running cold when he heard Han’s words.

"You're going to wanna see this. I think we can get him in." Chris felt uneasy. Han finally turned back to him, and gave him an easy smile, like everything was normal. He glanced over at Minho and smirked. "You're going to regret hitting me." Minho glanced over at Chris, as if asking him what he should do. Chris bit his lip and twitched one of his shoulders in the tiniest of shrugs. Minho's eyebrows rose slightly, and in seconds, he was by Chris’ side. It was weird how easily they communicated, like...Chris swallowed nervously. Like they knew each other well.

“You alright?” He murmured. Minho shrugged, his eyes tracking Han’s movements. Chris found himself wanting to see Minho without his guard up again. When the other man’s expression had been soft and gentle, it had put Chris completely at ease. It left him wondering what Minho was truly like, under the façade. He already knew that Minho had a gentle side to him.

But he was then vividly reminded of the way Minho had shown no hesitation when fighting with Han. He'd been prepared to kill. The Inspector’s instincts were screaming for him trust Minho, but he was beginning to suspect it was just because his subconscious recognised the other man. A lot could happen in thirteen years – he knew that all too well. He didn't know how much Minho had changed from the person he'd known. The Minho his subconscious trusted probably wasn’t the same one that stood beside him right now. More footsteps echoed down the street, and Minho shifted on his feet.

"Changbin?" He asked, eyes wide. The Sergeant barely glanced at him before turning his gaze to Han. Seeming satisfied that Han was at least standing, Changbin turned the full force of his furious gaze to Chris.

"Right now, it’s _Sergeant._ ” Changbin growled. Chris winced at the cold tone. That meant that he was in _big_ trouble. “Han, cuff him." Changbin muttered, and Han began reaching for the handcuffs on his belt.

"You can't arrest him, he's done nothing wrong." Chris demanded, throwing his arm in front of Minho.

"He assaulted an officer of the law." Han offered, sounding smug. 

"He was protecting me." Chris snapped back, and he saw Han freeze. He winced a bit. He never raised his voice at Han. But when there was no rebuke, he was spurred on, placing his hand on Minho’s shoulder. He met Changbin’s gaze and nodded. "I can vouch for him." Changbin’s jaw clenched. It was always Changbin and Chris that butted heads. Chris bit down on his lip, hoping that Changbin could see how desperate he was. Finally, Changbin seemed to relent. Han’s face was an icy mask.

"Fine." Changbin’s voice was cold. “Maybe we’ll worry about that one later.” He strode towards them, his face impassive. Changbin locked eyes with Minho, who bristled. "You’re under arrest for the murder of Rupert Tailor." Chris felt his heart skip a beat – and not in a good way. "Anything you do or say can and will be held against you in a court of law." Changbin continued, and Chris turned to Minho, eyes wide. 

"What did you do?!" He demanded. But Minho looked just as baffled as he did. 

"Nothing." Seeing that Chris didn't believe him, he ground his teeth together. "I swear on your life, I _did not kill him_." Chris clenched his jaw, knowing that meant that Minho was serious. "Don't touch me." Minho snarled as Han reached for his wrist.

"You _are_ under arrest for murder. I’d suggest being compliant." Changbin reminded him. Minho looked over at the Detective Sergeant. He pressed his lips together so that they formed a thin, hard line, resigning himself to his fate. He pressed his wrists together and offered them to Chris. Han reached for him again.

“He doesn’t match the description.” Chris winced as a note of pleading entered his voice. “You saw the video.” Still nothing. “Changbin –”

“Save it, Chris.” Changbin snapped, motioning for Han to continue with the arrest.

"Don't let him touch me." Minho spoke through gritted teeth. “You do it, Chan.” Chris’ heart felt heavy as he took the handcuffs from Han and began to snap them around Minho's wrists. Minho turned to Changbin. "I did not kill them." But Changbin had already turned away. Minho jerked back around to Chris. "I _didn't_ kill them, Channie." But all Chris could do was hang his head as Han took Minho away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he's finally hereeeeeee  
> i realise that my timezone is quite far ahead of everyone else's, but it has just become saturday for me so here i am.  
> i hope you enjoyed this and that you're intrigued! i'll see you next week.


	3. Casuistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fuck.”  
> “Yeah.”  
> “Fuck!”  
> “Yeah. Now are you glad I’m here?”

_[Clever but unsound reasoning.]_

_[“I’m afraid, there’s a voice ringing in my head. Wake up.”]_

**Monday, afternoon**

“I can’t _fucking_ believe you!” Changbin slammed his hands down on the desk. “We’re meant to be a team, Chris! You’re meant to be the senior officer, our _leader,_ and then you let Han get hurt! What the fuck were you thinking? You should have at least _tasered_ the bastard.” Chris inhaled deeply, unable to meet Changbin’s eyes. “What would you have done if he’d seriously injured a Constable, _our_ Constable, under _your_ watch?” Chris looked up at this. Changbin’s eyes were burning. “You’d be off the case, probably put on probation. I _need_ you on the case, Chris! We can’t do this without you!” That hit Chris like a ton of bricks. He chanced a glance at Han, who was holding an ice pack to his cheek. “Sort your shit out, or Han and me will do this without you.” Changbin stalked out, slamming the door to Chris’ office behind him. Chris looked over at Han, who was oddly silent.

“Hannie –”

“Don’t wanna hear it.” Han was clenching his jaw, even though it must have hurt. “Do I really mean that little to you?” Han’s voice had become surprisingly small. Chris’ heart ached when he thought about it from Han’s perspective. Han had rushed in, throwing caution to the winds, willing to put his safety – if not his _life_ – on the line for Chris. Then Chris had dismissed him for a stranger, who had started attacking him, and Chris hadn’t raised a _finger_ to help him. The Inspector felt about two feet tall as he realised the gravity of his actions. And he prided himself on being their leader, their compass, their light through storms. He felt his shoulders slump.

“I’m really sorry.” He murmured. He glanced up at Han, who was staring back at him with the same stoic expression on his face. “It’s just…I recognised him.” Han just watched him, clearly fighting to remain impassive. “I got too excited. He knew me – who I was, what my name was…and he – he works for my father.” Han’s eyes widened.

“But you don’t know your dad is.” Han winced, readjusting his ice pack.

“From what Minho said, he seems to be some sort of big gang leader in Seoul.” Chris began to realise how mad this all sounded.

“Minho?” Han’s lip curled. “You’re on a first name basis with him already?” Chris nodded, confused when Han began glaring at the floor.

“Of course.” Chris replied, tilting his head to one side. Han clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Minho works for him.” Chris continued. When Han didn’t meet his gaze again, the Inspector sighed. “He’s under orders to protect me, Hannie. Apparently, we were good friends. He just thought you were a threat.”

“A threat?” Han sounded incredulous. “To _you?”_

“I know, Hannie, I know.” Chris smiled softly when Han finally looked up. “But he didn’t know that.”

“And what about _me,_ Chris?” Han just sounded tired, now. “ _You_ don’t know the guy, or if he’s even legit in the first place.” Chris opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, but Han just raised an eyebrow. Chris’ mouth snapped shut with a _click._ “But we’ve been partners for…what, five years?” Han shook his head, his lip curling again as he sneered. “Do I matter to you at all?” A note of pleading offered Han’s voice. Chris’ heart ached. Without hesitation he pulled Han into his arms, clinging onto him tight. Han stiffened for a moment, and Chris squeezed the back of his Constable’s neck. Han then buried his head into Chris’ neck, his arms hanging limply by his side. Only then did Chris realise how truly selfish he had been.

“You must have been so scared.” Chris whispered, carding his hand through Han’s hair. “You did well, protecting me like that. It was pretty stupid, though.”

“Don’t scold me when you were _more_ stupid.” Han chuckled wetly, and Chris squeezed him tighter.

“Han, of _course_ you mean a lot to me. You’re my Constable, after all. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Chan bit down on his lip. “I just got caught up in my head.” Chris ran a hand through his hair and laughed bitterly. “I was so preachy about not caring about my past before. Then the second I get some tiny crumb of information I become completely useless. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Chris stepped back, but Han grabbed onto his jacket.

“I don’t regret jumping in to help.” Han murmured. “You know I’d do anything for you, Chris.” Chris bit down on his tongue, raking his hand through his hair. All of a sudden it dawned on him how close they were. If he shifted forwards even a hairsbreadth, their noses would bump. He bit down on his bottom lip, all of a sudden far too aware of the hope brimming in Han’s wide eyes. Tension was thrumming between them. He felt hot. Blood was rushing through his ears. He was sure Han would be able to hear his heartbeat, it was so loud.

“Don’t put yourself in danger on my account.” He watched as Han swallowed roughly.

“Chris –” His Constable’s voice was husky. Chris felt the sudden and overwhelming urge to kiss him. The thought made him jolt back as if he’d been stung. He was such an idiot. He couldn’t bear to think of taking advantage of his Constable like that. He wondered if he was imagining the disappointment that flashed over Han’s face, or whether he could interpret it as relief.

“I – I think we should interview Minho first. And I think it’s a waste of time.” Chris muttered, clearing his throat.

“You never know.” Han was now pointedly avoiding his gaze again. Chris hated it. Han had used to struggle so much with keeping eye contact. He’d been criticised for it at the academy. But he’d become so good at holding the Inspector’s gaze. And now, he seemed too hurt to even look at him.

_“I swear it’s been five hours now.” Han groaned, lying back on the floor and kicking his legs into the air in frustration. “Are we done yet?”_

_“It’s been twenty minutes, Constable.” Chris chuckled, taking another sip of his beer. He uncrossed his legs and stretched them out, loosening his tie. “And it hasn’t even been an hour after our shift. Is it your bedtime?”_

_“Shut up.” Han propped himself up on his elbows to glare at him. “I don’t know why I asked you to help me practice.” Han’s glare didn’t waver, and Chris started laughing again._

_“See, you’re good at eye contact when you’re mad.”_

_“Just around you.” Han muttered, sullen._

_“So I must make you pissed off then.” Chris smirked, and Han rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should find a different partner, Constable.”_

_“It’s Han.” The younger man shot back. “Come on, man, you hate when I call you Inspector.”_

_“True, true.” Chris nodded. “But see, the thing is, you’re_ my _Constable. I like letting people know that.” He teased, expecting Han to snort at him or throw back some sarcastic response. But when he looked at Han, the younger man was staring at him with his mouth hanging open. “Shit, I’m sorry.” Chris sat bolt upright. “I’m sorry Han, I didn’t mean anything –”_

_“N-n-no, it’s okay.” Han shot back instantly. “I am yours. Your Constable, I mean! Your Constable.” Chris held Han’s gaze for a moment, then relaxing. “But, um, Han is fine, too.”_

_“What about Hannie?” Han turned bright red at this._

_“T-t-t-t-that’s okay too!" The – no,_ his – _Constable finally smiled. Han looked almost giddy, like his face would crack from how wide his smile was._

_“Okay, Hannie.” Chris offered his beer to Han. Han held his gaze steadily, and the Inspector’s smile grew. “See, look at you. I’m proud of you already.”_

_“Shut up!” Han shot back, but he was grinning too._

“One lead is better than none.” Han muttered, shifting back and forth on his feet. Chris blinked a few times to pull himself back into the present.

“But we could be out there trying to get the _real_ culprit.” Han sighed at this, biting down on his bottom lip. He looked hunted. Chris reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “I _will_ talk to him about attacking you. No one beats up my Constable and gets away with it.” Han still didn’t answer, and Chris frowned. “I’m sorry, Jisungie.” He knew that would soften Han, if nothing else. Chris was the only one who called him Jisung, let alone _Jisungie._ “I…I just don’t know what’s going on inside my head.” Chris knew he wouldn’t be able to admit that to anyone else other than Changbin. If anyone else heard it, he risked being thrown off of the case. Chris had always felt uncomfortable discussing his past, mostly because he simply didn’t know anything. He didn’t want pity, or awkward silence. He was worried that Changbin and Han would look at him differently. Chris nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Just remember you’ve got us.” Han patted Chris’ hand, which still lay on his shoulder. “Please don’t go all lone wolf on us.” Chris chuckled at this, turning to

“Hey, can you imagine the disaster if you two left me alone? I’d give the station about a week before it burns down.”

“My bet is three days.” Han sniggered. Chris ruffled his hair.

“Jisungie, I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Han turned away, and Chris couldn’t see his expression. “Alright, I got it, time to shut up.” He slung an arm over Han’s shoulders. The two Detectives made their way to the holding cells, where Changbin was busy brooding. The Sergeant was pacing back and forth, Tailor’s file in his hands. He scowled at Chris, but smiled at Han. Ouch. Chris knew that Changbin wasn’t forgetting anytime soon, even if Han did.

“You’re not talking to him.” Changbin told Chris, whose face fell.

“But –”

“Nope.” Changbin turned to Han, and his expression softened again. “How’re you holding up?” Chris watched as Han shrugged.

“Better. If Chris isn’t going to talk to him, then, can I? I wanna give him a piece of my mind.” Changbin shrugged at this.

“Sure. Mind if I babysit Chris for a while? I’ll turn off the cameras for you.” Chris glared at the Sergeant.

“Changbin, as much as I normally turn a blind eye, there’s no way I’m allowing that.”

“It’s just so Han can yell at him.” Changbin grumbled. “I would never condone violence.” Chris snorted at this. “I trust Han to treat him decently, but I don’t want him getting a reprimand.” Changbin continued, and Chris just shrugged.

“Do what you want.” He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. Han laughed, but it was strained. His Constable reached up and petted his hair, cooing at him.

“Aww, is Chris sad he can’t interrogate his _boyfriend?_ ” Chris knew the words were meant as a playful tease, but they were acrid and bitter. Han spat them out as if they were bile.

“Oh, come on, Hannie.” Chris forced out a laugh, but it was strained. “Besides, shouldn’t one of us be with you?”

“He’s the one that got hurt by your _friend_ , so I think Han has the right to do a number on him.” Changbin paused. “Verbally, at least.” Chris rolled his eyes.

“Fine. You win.” Chris didn’t miss the way Han’s jaw clenched. “If you need help –”

“I can do this by myself, dickhead.” Han shot back, shooting his hand out for Tailor’s file. “Watch me.”

✧✧✧

Han stepped into the interrogation room, willing his heartbeat to slow down. Usually he had Chris or Changbin with him. Usually they led the interrogations. What if he fucked up? What if he asked leading questions? What if he got so pissed off that he punched Minho, and then got thrown out? As soon as the door closed behind him, Minho’s head snapped up. He had a soft smile on his face for a moment. But the moment he saw Han, his expression did a complete one eighty and he was glaring at Han with venom. Han couldn’t help but feel whiplash.

He also couldn’t help but bristle, realising that Minho had been waiting for Chris with that look. Han knew that he looked at Chris with the exact same gentle expression, and the thought made jealousy began to burn in his chest. He thought back to how Chris had told Han that Minho had known him. The hope and joy on his Inspector’s face had made Han’s stomach twist. It was obvious to him, after seeing Minho’s expression, how close Chris and Minho must have been.

Han couldn’t help but sigh. Chris had always been a magnet for potential lovers, but this time it seemed that the universe just wanted to fuck Han over. First Hyunjin, and now this guy? He was a jerk and _also_ fatally attractive. _And_ he had ties to Chris’ past. How the hell was he meant to compete? Han thought that he was at least a seven, maybe an eight on his good days. But Minho was a twenty. There was no way he had a chance.

“ _You._ ” Minho hissed. “I don’t want to talk to you.” Han just rolled his eyes, throwing himself into his chair. He slapped Tailor’s file onto the table.

“Yeah, me. Whatever.” Han pointed to his bruised cheek, scowling. “Thanks, man. Really appreciate it.” Han crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want to talk to you _either,_ buddy, but at the moment I can hold you here as long as you like. Or send you to jail.” Minho froze for a moment. Then he leaned back in his chair, smiling.

“Chan will get me out.” Minho sounded so confident. It made Han want to slap the smugness off his face.

“His name is _Chris,_ and actually, he listens to _me._ ” Minho scowled at that. “I’m _his Constable,_ and you only just showed up. Who do you think he’s going to believe?”

“Wait until his memories come back.” Minho smirked. It seemed that Han’s fears had been confirmed. Fuck, what if Minho and Chris had actually been dating? What if Chris remembered everything and decided to ditch 3Racha for Minho? Han forced himself to take a deep breath. He was getting ahead of himself. He had to stop thinking about Chris and start doing his job. 

“He doesn’t need to have his memories back to know who he should trust.” Han bit out through gritted teeth. “Point is, he’s going to be on my side.”

“What makes you so sure?” Han faltered at this. He couldn’t think of a good comeback. “I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings by divulging the truth to you. You’d think he’d pick up on your feelings by now, wouldn’t you?” Han’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes were wide.

“Oh, fuck off.” But his voice cracked. He hadn’t been that obvious, surely? What did Minho know, anyway? “ _This_ is the way you’re going to defend yourself? You sound like a child.”

“Says the _Detective_ who rushed into a fight like it was a pub brawl. My guess is you don’t do that for everyone.” Han bristled at this. Minho had hit the nail on the head, and Han hated it.

“Shut your mouth.” Han hated how easily Minho could see through him.

“Where did your manners go, Constable?” Han knew he couldn’t let Minho continue to get under his skin. He knew that Minho’s plan was simply to needle him until he got angry, and then Chris would swoop in to break them up. “This isn’t how you should treat your guests.”

“Why are you here, Minho?” Han pointedly ignored him. “I’m guessing it wasn’t for a vacation.” He knew that this bickering would go on all day if he didn’t cut Minho short.

“I’m here for Chan.”

 _“Chris.”_ Han shot back. “His name is _Chris.”_ He didn’t know why it was annoying him so much. Maybe it was because Chris was his, and _Chan_ was Minho’s. And Han didn’t want to give Chris up to anyone, let alone a criminal. “Who sent you?”

“My…employer.” In seconds, Minho’s voice had become diplomatic, soft and smooth. Han tried to ignore how nice Minho’s voice sounded. Minho stared at him for a moment, before rolling his eyes.

“Cut the bullshit.”

“Fine.” Minho glared at him again, and Han glared back.

“I’m waiting, _Lee._ ” Han hissed.

“I have all the time in the world, _Constable.”_ Minho shot back, and Han scowled at him.

“If you’re going to be that way, then I’ll leave you in here to cool off for a day.” Han sneered, getting to his feet. “If you really do have time, you may as well just stay in here and nap while I wait for your tongue to loosen up.” At this, Han saw a flicker of fear in Minho’s eyes.

“Wait,” Minho bit back. “If I talk –”

“You walk.” Han told him. “You can trust me on that.” Minho paused for a moment.

“Chan trusts your word?” Minho murmured, and Han nodded.

“He’s my Inspector, remember? Of course he trusts me.” When Minho still didn’t answer, Han sighed. “He picked me himself. He got us partnered together.” At this, Minho sighed.

“Alright. Chan…is my friend, and my employer’s son. He is in danger. I’ve been sent to protect him.” Han couldn’t believe that he’d actually gotten something out of Minho. He wanted to pat himself on the back. He’d stood up to Minho, and now it was working. He was proud of himself. He lowered himself back into his chair.

“What’s his name?” Han began scribbling his notepad.

“Channie’s father? Not telling.” Han looked up to see Minho smirking at him again, all traces of his former worry gone. Han’s breath caught in his throat. While Hyunjin’s smirk, attractive as it was, made Han want to punch him, seeing Minho’s made Han feel…ten kind of ways. It also reminded him a bit of when Chris smirked, which…often made his head implode a little bit, and was kind of really hot. Han shook his head to clear it. Now _certainly_ wasn’t the time to be thinking about Chris, with his biceps out, arms crossed over his chest, smirking down at him with a wink. Fuck, he hoped his cheeks weren’t red.

“Okay, so you’re working for Chris’s dad. Why does he need protecting _now,_ and not thirteen years ago? _”_ Han tried to watch Minho’s face for a crack in his expression, a flicker of emotion, _anything._ But Minho was impassive.

“I only just found out he was alive a couple months ago.” Han’s eyes widened. “I also know about Tailor’s murder.” Han swallowed hard.

“You _what?”_

“I didn’t kill him, if that was your first thought.” Minho scoffed. “I would never be caught for murder.” Hearing that made Han uneasy all over again. “Our informants – or _spies,_ you may call them –” Han choked on his spit.

“Spies?” He choked out. Surely Minho was bluffing. He had to be. What would a foreign power want with infiltrating CID? Sure, government, that made sense. But what power came with CID? Most of the senior officers were under some government official’s thumb anyway. What was the point? But still, the thought of working next to a mole from a foreign crime syndicate made Han’s skin tingle. He had no one who came to mind. What if that just meant that the spies were super good at their jobs?

“Yes. Keep up. They caught wind of some strange patterns developing about six months ago. I was just waiting for the first murder to happen.” Han’s eyes widened as he remembered that Chris said that he had seen this before. Minho saw his expression and nodded. “We knew what to expect because this has happened before. Thirteen years ago.” Minho’s eyes darkened. “Have you noticed that your big gangs have quietened down a little bit? I’m guessing you would have done a few more stakeouts down at the docks.”

“How did you…?”

“A lot of their higher-ranking members would have begun to have been replaced, or would have strangely kept their hands out any big crimes.” Minho steamrolled on, and Han felt sick.

It was so eerily accurate – it was like Minho had been working with them for the past six months. Han had just stupidly, foolishly hoped that they’d cleaned up some of the bigger gangs around London. But now that he thought about it, they’d been oddly quiet. There’d been less gang violence, less drug busts. The ports had been bustling, though. International trade and communication seemed to have skyrocketed. He shook his head in disbelief. If Minho hadn’t pointed it out, he doubted anyone would have seen a connection.

“Chris got amnesia thirteen years ago.” Han murmured. Minho smiled, but it was bitter.

“Well done.” Minho sighed, and looked away.

“We’re not being recorded.” Han whispered. Minho’s eyes widened.

“Alright.” Minho bit the inside of his cheek, lapsing into thought. “I have no doubt that you will protect him.” Minho murmured, as if talking to himself. “What I’m about to tell you…he can’t know.”

“Why not?”

“I fear it will cause him to go out of his way to put himself in danger.” Minho sighed again. “Can I trust you with this, Constable?” Han nodded wordlessly, eyes wide. “I need your _word_ , Constable.” Minho insisted.

“You already seem to know that I’d do anything for him.” Han whispered. “Please, I need to know, I want to help.” Minho nodded, finally satisfied.

“There will be seven murders.” Minho finally began, crossing his arms over his chest. “Six of them, Chan will know about, in some way, shape, or form, because they’ll _want_ him to know.”

“Holy shit.” Han breathed, feeling blood rush to his head.

“All of the victims will be found with a letter with them or on them.” Han thought about the images in Tailor’s file. The _G_ carved cruelly into the corpse’s thigh. “All the victims will seem random but have something in common.” Minho bit down on his bottom lip. “We still don’t know what exactly it was, but they were all connected.” Han was beginning to feel light-headed. “And…and this has happened twice before.” Minho dragged his teeth along his bottom lip. “And it’s the first time it’s happened outside of Korea.”

“Then why –”

“They’ve never succeeded in killing seven people,” Minho whispered. “Because Chan is meant to be the seventh victim.”

“What?” Han choked out. He felt his vision stutter for a moment and dug his nails into his palms, desperately trying to ground himself. “Why does someone want to kill Chris?”

“You’ve never been involved with a crime syndicate, and it shows.” Minho gave Han a wry smile. “Chan’s father is…extremely powerful.”

“Yeah, I gathered by the whole spy thing.” Han shook his head in disbelief. “Surely he’s known about Chris for a while, then?” Minho nodded. “But he didn’t tell you?” The smile Minho gave him was cold.

“He wanted to keep me loyal, Han.” It was the first time that Minho had used Han’s name. It rolled so well off of Minho’s tongue. Han couldn’t deny that he liked the way his name spilled out of Minho’s lips. But anger soon distracted him from Minho’s voice, and he started scowling.

“That’s sick.” He spat out.

“You’re telling me.” They smiled at each other for a moment, but Han ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He needed to get to the bottom of this.

“Do you know what happened to Chris?” He murmured, and Minho swallowed hard.

“I was with him.” Han sucked in a sharp breath. Finally, a crack appeared in Minho’s mask. Minho closed his eyes, wincing. Han noted that Minho had started digging his nails into his palms. “They were waiting for him. They’d killed all six victims already. They ambushed us. I tried to fight them off, but as always, it was Chan protecting me. He always kept me safe, even if it…even if it would kill him.” Han felt a sudden stab of empathy for the other man.

“That hasn’t changed.” He whispered. Minho’s eyes began to shine unusually bright, and Han realised with a shock that the other man’s eyes were filling with tears. It was exactly how _he_ would have described Chris. It was why his fight with Minho had shocked Han so deeply – because up until that day, Chris had always been willing to fight – and die – for him.

“He managed to distract them for a moment.” Minho was continuing, his words blurring together in his rush to get them out. “Then they stabbed him, and dragged him away, and one of them knocked me unconscious. And – and that was the last time I saw him.” Minho tipped his head back and closed his eyes, clearly trying to subdue his tears. “I was told that Chan’s father had had us followed. As soon as we were attacked, they called in backup. For his own safety, they sent him away. I was told that he was dead and that it was my fault.” Minho pursed his lips together. His next breath was shaky. “And so I sold my life to his father as penance.” Minho spat out. “For the last thirteen years, my life has been hell. Trying to make up for the loss of your best friend’s life by selling your own isn’t fun.”

“I can imagine.” Han wished he had more to say. He wanted to take away the pain in Minho’s voice, say something to smooth the frown off of his face. But he didn’t know how to. Minho inhaled deeply.

“Imagine this, then – I saw someone who looked like a threat. This time, I was ready to fight back and _win._ ” The last shreds of resentment Han had towards Minho were melting away. Begrudgingly, he found himself on Minho’s side.

“I see.” Han muttered. “You couldn’t protect him last time, and didn’t want anything to happen to him again.” Minho nodded.

“Exactly. I – I’m sorry for hurting you.” Han paused at this. Minho sounded surprisingly genuine. Han hated to admit it, but he was beginning to truly empathise with Minho. He remembered the rage that had filled him as he’d seen an armed stranger pinning Chris to a wall. He remembered the absolute terror that had rushed through him as he’d thought of Chris falling to the ground, injured – or worse. He realised now that Minho had probably felt the exact same.

But Minho had even more reason than Han to want to defend Chris. It suddenly dawned on Han that he was probably lucky to be alive. Minho probably wanted to eliminate any threats to Chris _permanently._ It was a testament to how much Minho respected Chris that he’d stepped down. Han swallowed hard. Minho was dangerous, and yet…Han couldn’t help but feel bad for him. If Han had been in Minho’s position, he would have done the same.

“I’m sorry for arresting you.” Han rubbed the back of his neck. He decided to shoot Minho a tentative smile. Minho’s expression softened for a moment. “I’m just surprised that he still has amnesia.” Han muttered. “Wait, Minho – why didn’t they fix the amnesia?” Minho’s eyes narrowed. “Surely they could’ve done more. Some sort of surgery, or…I don’t know.” But Minho was already shaking his head.

“Easy. Keep him quiet.” Minho was grim. “Use him as bait.” Han’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “They keep trying to threaten the empire, and they’re doing it by going after Chan. If they can catch whoever is behind it for real, he will be undisputed again.” Han knew that Minho was referring to Chris’ father. “They’ve always gone off the grid when they can’t get to Chan. This time, they disappeared for a long time. Normally they’ll pull other little assassinations here and there, or robberies, or a few arsons. And Chan’s death…” Minho mouth twisted. “I’m sure that would be the main event. Once Chan is gone for good, if anything happens to his father – that will be the end of it.” Han felt like was going to be sick. “Chan was raised to take over. So if anything were to happen to his father, or if his father was in danger – Chan would know what to do.”

“Are you sure he’s just a gang leader?” Han muttered.

“He’s the King of the underground, Constable.” Minho clenched his jaw. “His empire stretches further than just Korea. He has ties everywhere. You wouldn’t even begin to be able to guess how much influence he has.”

“Believe me, I don’t want to.” Han murmured. “If I try and think about that much illegal shit at once, I may have an aneurysm.” At this, Minho laughed. Han’s eyes widened in shock. Did – did Minho just _laugh?_

“Did Tailor have a letter on him at all?” Minho suddenly blurted out, before Han could lose himself anymore in _‘oh my god he just laughed and it was the prettiest thing I’ve heard all day.’_ “They always branded their work with a letter. It seems to have no particular pattern. None that we’ve found yet, anyway.”

“Tailor had a _G_ on his thigh.” Han rubbed his temples. It was a lot to process. “Let me get this straight. This has happened twice. Chris is the target. Whoever’s after him and is responsible is out to get his dad’s empire. Chris’ dad knew the whole time that he was alive. And you only just found out.”

“Precisely.”

“Fuck, how am I meant to explain this to him?”

“You said you wouldn’t tell him.” Han sighed at this.

“I know, but how do we explain all of this while keeping that out?” Han sat back in his chair. “I still don’t know why you don’t want him to know that he’s in danger.”

“If he knows, something will slip. There’s always leakage. My job is to keep it to a minimum.” Minho’s eyes flashed. “You don’t seem to understand, Constable – _no one_ can know. Our moles haven’t found which organisations they’ve infiltrated. We’re blind in this. But I know they’ll be watching him.” Minho gritted his teeth. “And I…I don’t want to trigger too many flashbacks.” Han realised that they were pretty much backed into a corner. Minho was right. He pressed his hands against his temples, frustrated.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck!”

“Yeah.” Minho sighed. “Now are you glad I’m here?” Han just looked at him for a moment.

“I’d never thought I’d be saying this to someone who beat the shit out of me only a couple hours ago but, yeah, I am.” Minho smirked at this. “I’m assuming I can tell Changbin.” Minho began frowning, but Han fixed him a raised eyebrow. “Binnie isn’t stupid. He already figures that Chris was somehow involved with the other murders. It won’t take a genius to connect all the dots – he was involved, then he was attacked, then ended up away from Korea…” At this, Minho bit down on the inside of his cheek.

“Fine.” Minho sighed deeply. “How about…how about I say they were after his father?”

“Little too close to home.” Han hummed in thought.

“How about…how about I say we were trying to solve the murders?” Minho murmured. “He was sent away when his father figured that he was getting too involved. Now they’ve sparked up again, I’ll say I was sent to protect him.”

“It could work.” Han nodded slowly. “It’s not perfect, but…at least it isn’t the same as ‘hey, you’ve got a target on your back.’”

“You…you can tell Changbin the truth, if you like.” Minho muttered, looking away. “But Chris only knows our abridged version.”

“Fine.”

“I know it’s not ideal.” Minho’s voice was soft. “But I just want to protect him.” For some reason, Han’s heart ached.

“I get it.” He sighed, his gaze dropping to his hands. He couldn’t imagine what Minho must have been through.

“You don’t.” Minho whispered. “He witnessed the deaths of or saw the corpses of twelve people, Han. He’s had multiple attempts on his life. His father…” Minho’s lip curled into a sneer. “His father is a _monster.”_ Minho practically snarled, hands balled into fists on the table. “If that all comes back now – if I tell him everything and it all comes back – I don’t know what will happen to him.” Han watched as a muscle began ticking in Han’s jaw. “I don’t know if he’ll be able to take it.”

“It’s okay.” Han told him, purely out of reflex. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “Forget I said that. I know it’s not okay.” But Minho was watching him carefully, now curious.

“I appreciate the sentiment.” Minho murmured. Han opened his mouth, about to tell Minho that he wasn’t alone in this mess, when the door swung open.

“Oi.” Changbin stuck his head through the door. Minho’s face smoothed over. He was impassive again. “Time’s up.” Changbin shot Minho a glare. “We keeping him?” Han got to his feet and looked down at Minho. Minho stared back at him. Han knew he didn’t have to think twice about your decision. “It’s your choice, Hannie. You can lock him up for a good while, if you wanted to.” Changbin was still glaring at Minho. Han couldn’t help but smile. Changbin was so protective of him.

“Let him go, Binnie.” Changbin did a double take. Chris poked his head over Changbin’s, eyes lighting up. Han smiled at him, but quickly realised that Chris wasn’t grinning at him. Chris’ gaze was fixed on Minho. Han felt his shoulders slump.

“Han…you’re sure about this?” Changbin sounded confused. Han looked back at Minho again. Minho tore his eyes from Chris and nodded to him, clearly wary of Han’s decision.

“Yeah. We’re going to need his help.” Minho’s eyes widened a fraction, and he dipped his head.

“You won’t regret this.” His voice was soft.

“We’ll see about that.” Han watched as Minho smiled, and trying to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm baaaaaaaaack  
> idk why i lowkey live for minsung rivalry resulting in sexual tension, but it's a fun time.  
> changbin will remain done with all of them until the end of time, i'm so sorry binnie, idk how you ended up as babysitter but here we are.  
> anyway! the pressure's starting to rise, but i'll see you next week. thank you for sticking with me so far, seeing kudos and comments has literally made my entire year already and it's inspired about 10k words out of me, so again, thank you! take care.


	4. Revival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Chris would get side-tracked, or miss things, but he was never wrong.
> 
> And this time, he was.

_[Improvement in condition, strength, or fortunes.]_

_[“So many things I don’t know, my dreams are only second.”]_

**Tuesday, early morning**

Changbin woke to his phone buzzing, the piercing ringtone startling him awake. He knew who it was immediately, without having to look at the caller ID.

“Chris.” He murmured, rubbing his eyes. “What’s up?” Usually he didn’t respond to phone calls. Usually he wouldn’t wake up at three in the morning for someone. But he had a special ringtone for Chris. It had always been that way – not that he’d ever let his friend know. He knew that Chris would have hated the special treatment, even if they had been friends for over a decade. Ever since he had witnessed Chris’ first flashback, he’d set a ringtone that he know would never fail to get his attention, whether he was asleep or not. That way he could always be there if Chris needed him.

“Binnie, I need your help.” Chris’ voice was shaking.

“Anything.” Changbin was awake now, on high alert. Sure, he was still pissed at the Inspector. But if Chris was calling him now, something had happened. Their earlier conflict had taken a backseat as soon as he’d heard how his friend’s voice had trembled.

“I don’t know if we can do this case by ourselves.” Changbin’s eyes widened in shock at his friend’s words. Chris was one of the most capable Detectives he knew and _hat_ _ed_ asking for help. He knew that sometimes Chris went three days without sleep if it meant solving a case. The fact that he actually worked _with_ him and Han, accepting their help and their judgement, showed how much he respected them.

He’d been told by Jihyo that she had always been worried about Chris being able to work well in a team. But she’d told him how much 3Racha had changed him. He’d gone from being solitary and quiet to friendly and confident, and he let his guard down more. Sure, he still didn’t have many close friends, but he was friendly with everyone in the department. He’d come a long way.

But this was weird. For Chris to reach out to him, instead of Changbin having to force it out of him _…_ something was wrong. Chris shouldered everything as the most senior officer on their little team. He tended to take on most of the burden of each new case, until Han or Changbin bullied him into sharing some of the pressure.

“What happened?” Changbin cut straight to the chase.

“Everything. Fucking _everything,_ Bin. I’m not a nobody, like I thought.” Chris gave a strangled laugh. “But I’m the spawn of fucking _Satan._ ” So this was to do with earlier. Changbin felt his jaw clench. Chris hadn’t had such a bad flashback in years. Then the whole mess with Minho…Changbin couldn’t help but feel guilty for letting his anger take away from the concern he should have had for the Inspector. Fuck, and he’d even let Minho go _with_ Chris. He knew Chris could handle himself, but now…it seemed like the most stupid thing he could have done. He’d chastised his friend so roughly for being led by his emotions, and then he’d gone and done the exact same thing. He didn’t sense danger from Minho – at least, when the other man was by Chris’ side – but that didn’t mean he should have trusted him with the Inspector.

“Chris, what’s going on?” There was that strangled laugh again. Changbin was already on his feet, hunting around for his jacket and keys.

“That flashback.” Changbin silently cursed. Of course Chris hadn’t taken the time to process it. Whenever Chris didn’t take the time to work through a flashback, it would haunt him for days or weeks. He’d often catch Chris spaced out, eyes glassy, with dark bags under his eyes. Changbin didn’t really know what happened in the flashbacks. The most Chris had told him was that he often saw dead bodies, horribly mangled. Often in the flashbacks, Chris had said he would be covered in blood.

Chris had said that when he’d first joined the academy, his flashbacks had been frequent. Once he’d become a Detective, however, it had become even worse. Changbin knew that a bad flashback meant that Chris would barely eat or sleep. He would become a wreck. Thankfully, it seemed that over time Chris had learned how to handle it as he became desensitised. Having Changbin and Han helped too. Changbin had spent countless hours with Han going over how best to help Chris. They’d spent weekends or late nights researching, trying to figure out how they could ease the burden for their friend.

But still, they were Detectives, and in the homicide division. There was no way they could avoid the triggers for the flashbacks. But Chris had been doing well. Changbin, keys in hand now, felt the urge to repeatedly slam his head into the wall. He’d let himself get too negligent. He shouldn’t have brushed it all away after a few good months. Chris closed off from him at the best of times, it was amazing that he hadn’t completely shut down yet.

“I’m assuming Han told you that Minho works for my father. And Binnie, these _same_ _murders_ happened when I was in Korea.” Changbin bit down on his lip until it began to burn. They’d already suspected that this was a repeat case, but if Minho was right, then Chris was more involved than Changbin had hoped. “What if I _know_ something, Binnie? What if it’s hidden away in my head somewhere?” He sighed, easily able to tell that Chris was growing frustrated.

“Do you want me to come over?” Changbin’s voice was soft. His hand was hovering over the doorknob. 

“No, no…I’ll see you tomorrow. And…Minho’s here.” He knew what Chris was implying. He didn’t want to deal with anymore confrontation. Changbin felt his hand twitch as he resisted the urge to throw the door open and race to his friend’s aid. But Chris…Chris was right. Changbin had a temper. He’d no doubt end up snapping at Minho at the very least, and Chris would take it upon himself to play peacemaker. He leaned his head against the door, trying to ignore the tears that had begun burning behind his eyes. His stomach twisted with shame.

“I’m sorry, Chris.” He muttered, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I’m really, really sorry.”

✧✧✧

“You should go to bed.” Minho’s voice was soft, but full of warmth. Chris blinked up at Minho blearily, tearing his eyes away from his phone. He’d given Minho his bed and had decided to crash on the couch, but it felt like the moment he’d slipped off into sleep, he’d been assaulted by nightmares. He’d woken up in a cold sweat, shaking and hyperventilating. The first person he’d thought of calling was Changbin. The Sergeant had always seemed to know what to do to bring him back from his flashbacks and nightmares. He thought he’d been quiet enough, but he must have woken Minho up somehow. The other man had come padding out into the living room from where he’d been waiting by the bedroom door, his eyes full of concern.

“I know. I just…don’t know if I’ll be able to.” Chris rubbed the back of his neck, feeling defeated. He didn’t have the heart to face his nightmares again.

_He fell to his knees, ignoring the blood that began to soak into his jeans. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t do anything but stare at the body in front of him. The eyes were wide open. On the arm was a sickeningly familiar letter. He’d seen it before. Was it happening again? Shock ran through him. He buried his head in his hands, beginning to rock back and forth._

_“Let me through. Let me through!” Minho’s voice met his ears. He turned to see his friend shoving through the crowd that had gathered. Chris unconsciously reached out his arms to the other boy. Minho threw himself down beside Chris, throwing his arms around him and pulling him close, burying his face in Chris’ hair. Chris clung onto him for dear life._

_“It’s happening again.” He whimpered. Minho gasped at his words, and Chris felt his head begin to spin. He closed his eyes, desperately willing his brain to forget about the mangled body in front of him. “I’m so scared, Min-ah.”_

_“Don’t be scared.” Minho soothed. “I’m here, I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”_

“There’s no harm in trying.” Minho smiled at him, and Chris felt himself melting. Strangely, Chris already felt safe with him. Chris was impressed with Minho, if he was being honest. In a different country with no backup on hand, he’d been involved in a fight and had been dragged down to the police station. And yet his only concerns seemed to be for _Chris._ Minho seemed to have forgotten about his own exhaustion and fears in place of the Detective’s.

Chris wondered if it was purely his subconscious talking, but he already wanted to protect Minho as much as he possibly could. He hadn’t wanted to go and wake Minho up. As much as he felt guilty for calling Changbin, he didn’t know how Minho would react to his nightmares. At least with Changbin, he knew what to expect. But here Minho was anyway, now forgoing sleep to offer him comfort. “Channie.” Minho’s voice startled him from his thoughts. “I’m not letting you sleep on the couch again, come on.” Chris smiled at Minho, who began tugging on his wrist.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” He didn’t have the heart to send Minho away. Chris couldn’t help but wonder if Minho had slept at all. He seemed wide awake. Chris began nibbling on his bottom lip. It felt _right_ to be so close to Minho. But there was doubt in his mind as well. What if he couldn’t fully trust Minho? He _wanted_ to. But if this was as big as Minho said it was…could he really afford to trust anyone? Chris frowned as he thought about his father again.

He wanted to know more about Minho, and about himself – the life he'd led as Chan was an enigma to him. All night he'd lain awake, thinking about the fragment of memory he'd regained. The voice he'd heard – his biological father's – was now as familiar to him as his own. The face he'd seen but for a few seconds was branded into his mind. He'd spent hours forcing the image into his mind, analysing it, finding similarities and subtle differences between his father's face and his own.

They had the same eyes and nose, the same facial structure. But his father was taller, and more broad-shouldered. His arms were heavily scarred, but his face was clear. His father, from what he had witnessed in those brief moments, was intimidating. Kwang-hoon, as Minho had spat out earlier, was feared, he was powerful, and he knew it. Despite the gut-wrenching terror he felt whenever he thought of the older man, Chris had a strange craving to know more.

“Worry about everything in the morning.” Minho murmured, smiling at him. Chris sighed, but relented, throwing himself onto his bed.

“Easier said than done, Minho.” Chris rubbed his face. Surely Minho wouldn’t be able to fake the warmth in his eyes. _Surely_ he could trust Minho. Chris finally just decided to fuck it, and throw caution to the winds. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around Minho’s wrist, pulling Minho down next to him.

“Chan –” But that was the only protest. Chris waited with baited breath. Minho paused for a moment, before sighing. He propped his chin on his hand, giving Chris a small smile. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” There was laughter in his voice as he curled up next to Chris. The Inspector’s breath caught in his throat as Minho laid his head on Chris’ chest.

“Is it wrong to trust you so much already?” Chris’ whispered. He _liked_ this closeness. And…he wanted _more_. Maybe he was just projecting because he was lonely. 

“I don’t think so.” Minho hummed in thought. “I thought I’d find it easy to distrust you, as I hadn’t seen you in so long. But then, as soon as I saw you…” Minho laughed into Chris’ chest. “I felt like it was yesterday when you disappeared.”

“You were in my dreams.” Chris murmured, and Minho froze. “And most of the time, when I had a flashback, you were there.” Chris rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I thought you were my guardian angel.” Minho was silent at this.

“I wish I had been.” Minho’s voice was filled with pain. “I missed you, Channie.”

“I wish I remembered.” Minho buried his face in Chris’ neck. His breath was warm against Chris’ skin, sending a tingle down the Detective’s spine.

“So do I. But if you fully remember me, you fully remember everything else.” Minho’s voice cracked. “I don’t want that happening.” Chris hesitated, but began carding his hand through Minho’s hair.

“Then…how about we start again?” Chris stifled a yawn.

“You should sleep.”

“Not yet.” Chris was determined. Minho laughed, but seemed to decide to humour him. “My name’s Chris, and I’m a Detective Inspector. My partners are DS Seo and DC Han. I lived in Australia when I was younger. I remember that, a little. I still have an Australian accent. As soon as I finished school, I went into the police academy. I like dogs. I hate coffee, but I have to drink it or I can’t wake up. I like wearing black, I think it makes me look cool.” Minho chuckled at this.

“Fine. My name is Minho. I work for your father, Kwang-hoon. I guess you could call me a field agent. I like cats, and I like coffee, like a normal human. I’ve lived in Korea my whole life. I have two partners.” Minho paused. “I guess you could call them partners. Their names are Felix and Jeongin.” Minho’s voice was warm again. “Or Yongbok and I.N, if we’re at work. They’re like my little brothers.” Chris smiled at this.

“Sometimes I feel like Changbin and I are related, the amount of times we bicker.” Chris laughed. But then he thought about Han. Did he think of Han like a brother? He creased in brows in thought. Chris bit down on his lip. There was something there. At least he thought so. He brushed it off. It was food for thought, but for another time. “Are Felix and Jeongin in Korea?”

“Yeah. I’d be happy if they stayed out of this.” Minho curled in closer to Chris’ side. Minho reminded Chris of a cat. He began stroking Minho’s hair again, and the movement soothing him. “I wear black because it’s easy to be conspicuous, but in my spare time I like wearing colours, and patterns.”

“That’s cute.” Chris heard Minho’s breath hitch.

“I can’t swim for shit.” Minho continued, rushing on as if he hadn’t heard Chris’ comment. “I’m a rock in the water.” Chris laughed at this.

“I like swimming. That’s how I used to get my exercise done in the academy.”

“You were like that before.” Minho’s voice was so soft that Chris almost missed his wistful words. “I guess some things haven’t left you.”

“I like autumn.” Chris blurted out.

“Me too.” Now it was Minho’s turn to laugh. He wrapped an arm around Chris’ middle, slinging one of his legs over Chris’ body. Chris felt…he felt warm, and cosy. He felt _comfortable._ Usually by now, he was staring at the ceiling, or was cranking up the volume of his music. But there was a pleasant buzz settling in his chest, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face.

“I like to eat everything.” He blurted out, and Minho snickered softly.

“Me too.” Chris fought to keep his eyes open. At some point, Minho had gingerly reached out and had begun slowly carding his fingers through his hair. Chris felt his eyes flutter closed, tilting his head up to lean into the touch.

“If I wasn’t a Detective, I’d be a kangaroo.” Minho laughed softly.

“You used to say you’d be an athlete.” Chris hummed at this, content at hearing the way that warmth flooded Minho’s voice.

“I could do that, I think.” His words were beginning to slur, his tongue feeling as heavy as his eyes. “I like blue. Navy blue.”

“Mint green.” Minho’s voice had dropped to a whisper. Chris yawned, feeling his consciousness beginning to wane.

“Haha, Mintho. Get it? Mint. Mint-ho.” His head lolled to the side, Minho’s cheek resting on the top of his head.

“Goodnight, Channie-hyung. Sweet dreams.” Minho kept stroking his hair. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

✧✧✧

Han hesitated outside of Chris’ apartment. Last night was the first night that he hadn’t walked home with Chris, since…probably since the first year they’d been partnered together. Chris had been accompanied by Minho instead. While Han felt like he was amicable with Minho, that didn’t mean they were friends. Besides, it would have felt awkward. Both of them would have been clamouring for Chris’ attention.

Han had decided to do the noble thing and let Minho have time with Chris – he hadn’t seen Chris in thirteen years, after all, while Han saw Chris almost every day. Han had debated just going to the station by himself, but force of habit – and the fact that he wanted to see Chris – had bought him to the familiar apartment complex. Han sighed, trying to mentally prepare himself. He raised his hand and knocked on the door. As the door opened, he felt the knot in his chest begin to loosen. Seeing Chris always made everything alright.

But the man who opened the door, blinking blearily at him, wasn’t Chris. It was Minho. Han couldn’t believe that this Minho was the same man who had tried to kill him yesterday. Minho’s hair was tousled and sticking up in ten different places, and he was pouting. He was wearing a sweater that were a few sizes too big for him. Minho rubbed his eyes with a sweater paw, and Han gulped. Minho looked so _cute._ It was almost unfair how adorable he looked. Han reminded his treacherous brain that Minho had almost given him a black eye yesterday, and kicked the shit out of him, but his brain wasn’t listening.

“Good morning, Constable.” _Fuck,_ even Minho’s sleepy voice was cute! Was he just _asking_ for Han to like – _dislike_ him?

“M-morning.” Han squeaked. “Is Chris ready?” Minho shook his head, stepping back and letting Han inside.

“You’re early.” Minho murmured, stifling a yawn. “Do you want coffee?”

“That’d be great, actually.” Minho nodded, shuffling into the kitchen. Han tore his eyes away from Minho. He was loyal to Chris, dammit. Where was Chris, anyway?

“Morning, Jisungie.” Speak of the devil. Han’s eyes snapped to Chris’ bedroom, where his Inspector was emerging. Han’s brain short-circuited, and his heart stuttered a few times. His breath caught in his throat as he suddenly forgot how to breathe. Chris wasn’t wearing a shirt. Chris was shirtless _._ Chris’ _whole goddamn abdomen_ was on display _._ And oh fuck, Han wasn’t prepared for this in any way, shape, or form. Chris had a perfect six pack, and Han felt like his heart was about to give out. And the _Jisungie_ had only made matters worse.

Chris padded over to him, ruffling Han’s hair. His hand slipped down to rest on Han’s cheek. “We slept in.” Han’s brain had stopped processing language by this point. He stammered out something that sounded like ‘okay’, but at this point he was wondering if he’d said anything at all. He had whiplash, going from cooing over Minho to drooling over Chris.

“Han, here’s your coffee.” That was Minho’s voice. Han turned to see Minho smirking at him. Trust Minho to know exactly what was on his mind. He watched as Minho’s eyes slowly travelled over Chris’ body, done in a way that was both appreciative and _oh so_ spiteful. Oh, right. Now Han remembered why he didn’t like him. They were rivals. Thankfully, this was enough to pull him from his daze. Han shot him a glare before trudging over towards the kitchen bench.

“How’d you sleep, Hannie?” Thankfully, Chris was pulling on a hoodie, so Han’s heart could finally rest.

“Good. I’m guessing you didn’t?” He took stock of the dark bags underneath Chris’ eyes, and frowned. Chris shrugged.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Chris shrugged, making his way into the kitchen. He slung an arm over Minho’s shoulder, his hand draping down over Minho’s chest. Han watched them curiously. He hadn’t expected Minho to be comfortable with such closeness. He also hadn’t expected Chris to be so close to Minho. What if they’d already confessed their love for each other, and Han was doomed?!

At this, the Constable wanted to slap himself. What was wrong with his brain today? It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since Minho had showed up. Chris wasn’t that dumb. Surely n. His shook his head, desperately trying to clear it. “Han, I want you to give the briefing today.” Han’s eyes widened in surprise.

“M-me?” His jaw dropped as Chris nodded.

“Of course Changbin and I will be there to help you, but I want to give you an opportunity to lead one.” Han nodded, eyes wide.

“Close your mouth, you look like a Venus fly trap.” Minho commented. Han’s jaw snapped shut with a _click_ , and he shot Minho a glare.

“Very funny, Lee.” Minho looked smug, clearly pleased with his comment. Han rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Chris. “I’ll try my best.” Chris grinned at him. Han watched as Minho reached up to squeeze Chris’ hand. The Inspector patted Minho’s shoulder, releasing him. Chris padded over toward him. Han looked up at his Inspector, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. Chris was frowning. Guilt flashed across his Inspector’s face. Han felt his heart stop again as Chris trailed a finger over his bruises. The other man’s touch was feather soft, but it was enough to send electricity sparking through Han’s skin.

“How are you feeling?” Chris’ voice was as soft as his touch, and Han felt tongue-tied.

“Better.” He managed to choke out. Minho cleared his throat from behind them, popping the bubble that had begun to form around the two Detectives.

“You sure?” Chris was cupping his cheek now, his Inspector’s thumb gently smoothing over his jaw.

“Yeah.” Han breathed, eyes wide. Chris sighed, still frowning.

“I’m really sorry.” His Inspector whispered.

“I know.” Han couldn’t help but lean into Chris’ hand. The touch was so comforting, and the way his face nestled perfectly into the other Detective’s palm was enough dream fuel for the next three months. “I’m okay, Chris, I promise.”

“Awesome.” Chris visibly gave himself a little shake. “Okay, cool.” He ruffled Han’s hair before turning back to Minho. “Alright, I’m going to get ready. Minho, come and get some clothes. I think I’ll have some stuff that’ll fit you.” Han could only watch him go, his heart full to the brim with longing.

✧✧✧

Changbin greeted Chris only with a nod, immediately noting the dark bags under his eyes. He wanted to ask Chris if he was okay, wanted to bundle him up and send him home to rest, but he knew that Chris would have already sunk his teeth into the case. When Chris found a focus, he was a lost cause to the rest of the world.

Changbin had opted for a suit that day, knowing he’d have interviews to run and a possible press conference later. Chris, meanwhile, looked as dishevelled as always. As always, he still had his shoulders pushed back, and his dark eyes were alert. Changbin still hadn’t worked out how Chris did it. He raised an eyebrow when he saw that both Minho and Han were flanking the Inspector. Han was chatting to Chris, bouncing with nervous energy. Changbin didn’t miss the way that Han was sticking a little closer to Chris’ side than normal. Minho, meanwhile, was silent, observing the rest of the room like a hawk.

It was a strange picture they made. Han’s shirt was perfectly ironed, while Chris looked like his had been sitting on the floor for several weeks. Minho was dressed in slacks and a simple button up, which Changbin recognised as one of Chris’. Somehow, he looked more professional than Chris did. Changbin’s eyes narrowed, zeroing in on how Minho’s hand was resting on the small of the Inspector’s back. Interesting. Changbin wasn’t surprised that it pissed him off.

Changbin tore his gaze away from Chris to survey the rest of the room. Sana, a fellow Sergeant, was murmuring to Nayeon, the Inspector she was partnered with. He briefly wondered where Tzuyu, their Constable, had gone. He also spotted some other familiar faces. Clearly the Superintendent had determined they needed more bodies, which he was thankful for. Jihyo was there, murmuring to Seungmin, who was rubbing his chin in thought. Hyunjin, meanwhile, was eyeing Chris with a mix of awe and appreciation. Changbin wanted to roll his eyes. Maybe it was in the way Chris held himself, or the way his appearance radiated ‘ _I don’t give a fuck’_ energy. Somehow, he always seemed to elicit hero worship from younger officers. Even senior officers regarded Chris with respect. Hell, that’s how Changbin had felt when he’d first met Chris, who’d only been a Sergeant at the time.

Then Changbin watched as Hyunjin’s eyes flicked to Han, and the Constable scowled. It marred his pretty face, and left Changbin confused. He thought back to the way Han had hidden behind Chris the day before when Changbin and his Inspector had spoken to the two new Constables. Maybe the two had history. Whatever it was, Changbin wasn’t going to let it interfere with the case. He already had enough on his hands as it was.

He watched as Chris murmured to Han and Minho, who sat down at the chairs in front of the whiteboard, facing the room. Chris was looking at the notes Changbin had already written up, eyes narrowed in thought. Usually he would have been roaming around by now, talking to everyone. Changbin couldn’t wrap his head around the Inspector. Ever since Minho had shown up yesterday, he’d been…different. Chris could miss details, and be headstrong, but he was never as spontaneous as Han, who often behaved as if he was wearing blinders.

And Changbin had never seen Chris be so careless with someone he cared about. Letting Han get hurt wasn’t a simple blunder, or a mistake. It was an oversight, and a selfish one. But when it came to 3Racha, Chris was never selfish. Sometimes he drove Changbin crazy with how determined he was to put Changbin and Han first. Especially Han. Han was Chris’ _baby_ , as Changbin often teased.

Both Changbin and Chris had an unspoken rule – they weren’t allowed to coddle each other. They’d been through that stage. When they’d first become partners, Chris had been so careful with Changbin, making sure he was alright all the time and that he wasn’t confused, trying to ease him into Detective work by intentionally taking easy cases. He would preach so much to Changbin about eating well or getting enough sleep. He would try and make sure that Changbin was dealing appropriately with his stress. Frankly, it had pissed Changbin off, especially when he’d learned how little Chris took care of himself.

He’d made his way into Chris’ office one afternoon, only to find his partner on the floor, shaking and hyperventilating. Jihyo had been desperately trying to ground Chris, barely sparing Changbin a glance. Changbin had been shit-scared for his partner. He’d been so confused. Once Chris had calmed down, Changbin had forced him to tell him everything. Changbin had been shocked to learn how much Chris had been hiding. Changbin had always thought Chris so strong. But to see him so broken, with tears in his eyes, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, lips bitten and bloody, had shaken Changbin.

Changbin had followed Chris outside when his partner had gone for a smoke. Chris had divulged that he smoked and drank to keep his mind busy, with a bitter laugh chasing a puff of smoke. When the nightmares and flashbacks got bad, Chris would turn to the superficial comfort of alcohol and nicotine. Changbin had pointed out his partner’s hypocrisy with a scowl. How could Chris baby Changbin when he refused to take care of himself? So Changbin had made Chris make a deal with him. They’d shaken on it. Changbin would get to baby him until Chris started taking care of himself. That very afternoon, Chris had given his pack of cigarettes to another Detective, giving Changbin a thumbs up.

Despite going through withdrawal and a probable resurgence of nightmares without his coping mechanisms, Chris had stuck to his word. He’d even landed them their first big case as partners. Changbin would never forget the nausea he’d felt, seeing his first real homicide. Everyone had believed that it was a robbery gone wrong. A one-off. There were no fingerprints, no security footage, and most importantly, there was no murder weapon. But Chris had sensed something off.

He’d doggedly stuck to the case, spending long nights chasing down leads or poring over evidence. Changbin couldn’t count the number of days where he’d come back to the station in the morning to find Chris in the same position that Changbin had left him in. Everyone had told Chris to just give up, including their Inspector at the time. Sana and Jihyo, who had gone to the academy with them, had been the only one to tell Changbin not to worry, that they weren’t just chasing their tails. If Chris thought he had something, he’d follow it through until he found it. But Changbin had been unsure at first.

Then Chris had called him at three in the morning, waking him with the news that he had the killer – the late victim’s wife and son. Changbin had been confused, at first, but he’d still gone to the station anyway. Chris explained that he’d had his suspicions – the family had been clean. _Too_ clean. What a perfect alibi they’d had. Everything had been in perfect order, from their movements months before the murder to their bank accounts. But Chris had followed the pair one day after an interview.

When he’d seen them arguing, he knew he had his killers. But finding evidence had been the hard part. Changbin had listened with wide eyes as Chris explained how the mother and son duo would have planned it, down to the last second. He’d shown Changbin a piece of rope found in the basement, thrown carelessly in a corner. The one mistake. The plan had probably been to fake a suicide, before one of the killers had decided it would be too hard to stage.

Changbin and Chris had gone back to the house. Chris had gone around on his hands and knees, spending hours combing every inch of the house. Finally, tucked away in a dresser, was a suicide note. Changbin and Chris had confronted the mother and son with the note, and the son had broken down and confessed. Changbin had never forgotten the moment they’d gotten a confession. He remembered seeing the glint in Chris’ eye, and that dogged determination. Since that case, he’d never questioned Chris’ judgement. Sometimes Chris would get side-tracked, or miss things, but he was never _wrong._

And this time, he was.

Changbin hadn’t _ever_ known Chris to be wrong. It was so out of the ordinary, and it had shaken him. He knew that Chris wanted to trust Minho – and Changbin hated to admit it, but if he’d been in Chris’ position, he would’ve wanted to trust Minho as well. He couldn’t imagine longing for so many years to find out about his past, only for it be then dangled temptingly right in front of him.

But Changbin also knew that Minho was a likely Lucifer, dangling the forbidden fruit of knowledge right in front of Chris’ eyes. Changbin had no doubt in his mind that Minho was no stranger to crime. Of course, he couldn’t charge Minho with anything – they weren’t even in the right country to warrant Changbin taking a look at Minho’s past brushes with the law. Besides, he doubted that he would find anything on Minho. If Minho _was_ working for Chris’ father, who was as powerful as Minho claimed, then his record would be clean.

If Minho really knew as much as he claimed he did, then that meant that Chris’ father had his sticky little paws in an international, likely ongoing, string of homicides. Tailor’s death in itself may have seemed a typical homicide, albeit with a few flares. But when important gang leaders from overseas decided to get involved, Changbin knew it was time to reconsider what the fuck they were doing. He knew Chris would stick to this case, because Chris was stubborn, and he wanted to get his memories back. He knew that Chris would want to know why he had so many gruesome nightmares and flashbacks. But where Chris went, Han would follow, and if both of them went, Changbin would have to go along, too.

He was so scared that one of them wouldn’t make it out alive. Seeing how Chris had already become so feverish over meeting someone from his past, Changbin was worried about how he would handle an entire _case._ And that was just scratching the surface of Changbin’s worries. Chris had had a flashback, involving a death similar to Tailor’s. That meant that at some point, Chris would have had to have _personally_ seen such a gruesome corpse. That didn’t happen unless he was either the killer, or the unintended victim.

Changbin favoured the latter for his theory. It was unlikely to be the former. Sure, he could have been an innocent bystander, but that didn’t quite explain it in a way that satisfied Changbin. But that begged the question – just how many murders _had_ the Inspector witnessed? If the number and intensity of the flashbacks were anything to go off, Changbin would have to take a guess at half a dozen, at least. As much as Changbin had faith in himself, Chris was one of the best Detectives the station – no, the _city_ – had. And Changbin wouldn’t – and _couldn’t_ – do this without him.

“Binnie, you alright?” Changbin looked up to see that it was Chris himself who had murmured in his ear. Changbin shrugged, not bothering to hide his scowl.

“I don’t like this.” He muttered. “Minho, as much as you seem to want to forget, is a _criminal._ ” Chris’ face became unreadable, but Changbin pressed on. “Chris, where there’s one rat, there’s bound to be more. How do you know that your father only sent Minho? How do you know that there’s not a big group of them here? How do you know that it isn’t _your father_ who’s behind all this?” Chris’ eyes widened. Bingo. Of course Chris hadn’t thought all of this through.

“Trust me.” Chris held Changbin’s gaze. Changbin wanted to balk, but he knew he couldn’t. “Changbin, when have I ever let you down?” A note of pleading entered the Inspector’s voice. Changbin swallowed hard. He’d been partnered with Chris for over half a decade. He wanted to just agree with his Inspector, his _friend,_ but he couldn’t. Not this time. Changbin clenched his jaw.

“When you let Han get hurt.” He blurted out. Guilt flashed across Chris’ face. That had been a low blow. But Changbin was stubborn. He wasn’t going to let it go just yet.

“That was a stupid mistake.” Chris’ voice was hard. “It isn’t going to happen again.”

“But it happened once already, when I never thought that it would.” Chris swallowed hard, and Changbin couldn’t stop himself from glowering at the Inspector. Chris looked over at Han, and Changbin watched as the Inspector’s face softened. His gaze was so tender, and his eyes were brimming with warmth, and…oh, _fuck._ Changbin knew that look, and he didn’t want to touch it with a ten-foot pole. First a homicide, then a gang member from Korea, now Chris going and catching feelings for _Han_ , of all people. Would Changbin ever sleep again?

“I care about both of you.” Chris’ voice was soft, muddled with guilt and genuine pain. “I hate that I let Jisungie get hurt.” Changbin felt his icy anger beginning to thaw, despite his resolve. 

“I know.” Changbin’s voice lost its bite. “But I also know that you care about finding out who you were, and you care about _him._ ” Changbin jerked his chin to where Minho was lounging next to Han. Minho was watching them with a sullen expression on his face, sunk low in his chair. His long legs were thrown haphazardly out in front of him, and his head was tipped back. When he caught Changbin’s gaze, he began to glare. Changbin really, _really_ wanted to wipe that stupid look off his face.

“I’m sorry.” Chris whispered, and Changbin tore himself away from the staring content he was having with Minho to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen, Chris, there’s nothing wrong with that, but remember that if you want to us to stay on this case, you have to put that second for now. Once this is said and done, Han and I will be right behind you. We’ll help you as much as we possibly can.” Changbin watched as the Inspector’s eyes widened. Changbin sighed. “You didn’t think we’d let you handle it by yourself, did you?” Chris grinned at him, but Changbin wagged a finger in front of his face. “But you have to understand that _this_ comes first. Okay? I’ll even try and be nice to Lee for you.” Well, that last bit was a blatant lie. Chris didn’t need to know that though.

“Okay.” Chris’ shoulders relaxed, and Changbin realised that this was probably what had kept Chris up all night. “And you’re right.”

“Of course. I’m always right, aren’t I?” Chris chuckled at this and shook his head.

“As always, our great lord and saviour, Changbinnie.” Changbin shoved his shoulder. The tension was gone, as quickly as it had started.

“Chris, we’re not going to give up on your past just yet.” He let his voice soften.

“But we’re living in the present.” Changbin felt himself relax. _Finally,_ it felt like they were on the same page again. It put Changbin at ease. If Chris could focus on the case, then Changbin would drop his vendetta on Minho – for now, at least – as long as Minho kept his hands to himself. Changbin could roll with that. “Thanks for keeping my head out of my ass, Binnie. I mean it.”

“I know. I don’t know what you’d do without me.” Changbin held his fist up, and Chris bumped his fist against Changbin’s. Han cleared his throat, and the Detectives looked over to where their Constable was helplessly wringing his hands, his insecurities written all over his face. “You want him to do the briefing, I’m guessing?” Chris nodded.

“He was the one who spoke to Minho, after all. We don’t have much to add. Those surveillance tapes were useless.”

“I know.” Changbin was smug. “I had fun, making you watch all of them.” Chris mock glared at him, before striding over to Han, ruffling the Constable’s hair.

“Listen up.” Chris exuded an aura of confidence, immediately commanding attention. As soon as the Inspector had opened his mouth, all eyes had turned to be on him. Changbin just shook his head in disbelief. Okay, so _maybe_ he could understand where Hyunjin’s awe had come from. “DC Han is briefing us today. Our main priorities are catching our guy and interviewing as many people as we can.” Chris clapped a hand onto Han’s shoulder. Changbin watched as Han began to relax at the touch. Neither of them were good at being inconspicuous, were they?

“Morning, everyone.” Han shot Chris a nervous smile, then looked over at Changbin, as if seeking his approval as well. Changbin shot him a thumbs up, and Han inhaled deeply before making his way over towards the whiteboard. “This is Rupert Tailor, our victim. As much as this looks like a random killing, we have reason to believe it was premeditated.” Han pointed at the photo of the carving on Tailor’s leg, which had been stuck to the board.

“That’s the mark we’re investigating?” That was Jihyo, who folded her arms over her chest, leaning forwards.

“Yeah.” Han nodded. “It’s the mark our killer likes to use for these sorts of murders.” Changbin watched as Jihyo’s eyes narrowed. He saw a flicker of interest pique in the Inspector’s eyes. “As we know nothing about our murderer, we’re bringing in an informant who knows a bit about their history. This is Minho Lee.” Minho raised a hand.

“Pleasure to be meet you all.” He murmured, ducking his head.

“He’ll be working with us. We expect there to be other murders, possibly up to six others. We’d like to prevent as many as possible.” Changbin’s eyes widened a little, and he glanced over at Minho, who was nodding. Han must have gotten all of this out of Minho during the interrogation session. Changbin couldn’t help but grin, filled with pride. “We found a note at the scene, and we don’t know if it’s the beginning of a code or not. Make sure if there are any more deaths, we investigate the area thoroughly.”

“Nothing else?” That was an unfamiliar voice. Changbin turned to see Seungmin sitting forwards in his chair, his brows creased together. “If there were no numbers or other symbols, it may just be a message.” At this, Changbin nodded.

“We’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Constable Kim.” Chris nodded at Seungmin, who smiled, eyes gleaming at having been acknowledged.

“This is the first time there’s been notes.” Minho muttered. He sounded like he was talking to himself for a moment. Changbin watched as Han’s head snapped towards Minho, raising his eyebrows. Minho gave a small shake of his head. Changbin bit down on his bottom lip. What was so different this time?

“I like codes.” Seungmin’s eyes were bright. “So if it looks like there is one, I’ll get on it.” Changbin just gave him a look. Strange kid, that one. He was probably someone that could solve Rubik’s cubes in their sleep. He saw Jihyo giving Seungmin a fond smile.

“So, who is this guy?” That was Hyunjin. The Constable was eyeing Minho suspiciously. “If this is the first time there’s been notes, that means this has happened before. How come _you_ know so much about it?” Han inhaled deeply. ‘ _Shut up, Hyunjin.’_ He wanted to snap. But he knew the rest of the team deserved to know.

“This isn’t the first time these murders have happened. They’ve never been solved before, though, and six people have died each time. We want to prevent that if we can.” Han sounded irritated. Changbin shot him a warning glance, trying to remind the Constable to stay professional. Han’s eyes met Changbin’s, and he mouthed a quick apology.

“No offence, but why are _we_ getting put on this?” That was Seungmin. He had an eyebrow raised. “It sounds like a really advanced case.”

“Unfortunately for you, you’ve been partnered with one of the best Inspectors we have.” Chris stepped in, shooting Jihyo a wide grin. “This will be good experience for you.” Changbin watched as Seungmin ducked his head. “If possible, we need to keep as much of this to ourselves. All anyone else needs to know is that we’re working a routine homicide.” Chris’ gaze became steely as he looked over at Hyunjin and Seungmin. “Is that clear?” The two Constables nodded, wide-eyed. “Jihyo, I want you and Seungmin to interview the witness. Get some door to door work done if you can.”

“Inspector Im,” Han began nervously. Nayeon looked up as her name was called, giving Han a little smile to reassure him. “If you could start compiling some of the movements of the local gangs?” She nodded at this, lapsing into thought.

“Anything you want me to really look into?” She asked, taking out her notebook.

“See if there’s been any conflict we’ve had with any of the South Korean gangs in north London.” She raised an eyebrow, curious at this, but simply nodded. 

“Changbin, I want you and Constable Hwang to lead the team that are after the killer. I want him in custody as soon as possible.” Chris gave him a nod, which Changbin returned. He found it interesting that Chris wanted him to work with a Constable by himself. Jihyo and Chris were the ones meant to be leading teams, not him. Still, he figured it made sense. They’d be more efficient if they paired up. “Han, you’re with me. We’re going to go back to basics and try to find out why someone would want to kill Rupert Tailor.” Chris clapped his hands together. “Then we’ll meet back here for the press conference. Sound good?” He was met by a chorus of _‘yes, Inspector’_ , and Changbin noted with a smirk that the tips of the Inspector’s ears had gone red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you miss me? no? understandable have a nice day  
> anyway!! i think it's been almost a month since i've started posting this fic.  
> thank you so much for still sticking it out and waiting for this chapter.  
> we're almost finished with the set-up of the story, so things are going to start heating up as of the next few updates.  
> i may even have to do a bi-weekly update or two, i don't know if I'M going to manage leaving you hanging for a whole week hahaha.  
> thank you so much for your comments and kudos and for reading this! i hope you're finding it somewhat interesting and are enjoying this wild ride. we've still got a long way to go, but having you all still reading means so much.  
> take care! i'll see you next week (or will i see you before then? i think it's time to start springing surprises on you hehehe).


	5. Dissonance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hi, Channie-hyung. I missed you."

_[Lack of agreement or harmony.]_

_[“Have strength, just endure a little more._

_I’ll be next to you.”]_

**Tuesday, morning**

“He’s not special.” Han scowled down at his hands. “But –” Minho had said that the murders were always full of patterns, and connections. He knew there had to be something deeper going on, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I just don’t get it.” His Inspector sighed. Han had half a mind to tell Chris everything he’d heard from Minho. But Minho had looked so incredibly desperate, and terrified of what would happen if Chris would find out that he was a walking target. And if Minho was scared, Han knew he should have been terrified. Chris was staring at the map they’d stuck to the whiteboard, rubbing his chin in thought. “Ale Street.” Chris mused. “It’s on the south.” Chris then swore. “There are warehouses nearby.” Han glanced over at him, confused.

“Why’s that important?”

“Look.” Chris was on his feet now, pointing at some of the crime scene photos. “There’s not much blood.” Han raised an eyebrow.

“Define, ‘not much’, ‘cause that looks like a metric fuck ton.” Chris’ lip twitched into a half-smile at this.

“Yeah, but think of a stabbing. It’d be all over the crime scene, right? Like they clearly hit several veins, so it should have been spurting _everywhere_. But this one…look. A lot of it seems to be already dry, and it’s mostly on the body.” Han stepped closer, his eyes widening when he realised that his Inspector was right.

“Why, though?” Han muttered. “He has a ton of wounds.”

“I’d say the blood at the crime scene was mostly from the…uh…” Chris winced, running a hand through his hair. “Putting it delicately, the, uh, _snacking._ ”

“Snacking.” Han deadpanned, and Chris gave him a sheepish grin. “Did you really just refer to cannibalism as _snacking,_ you fucking twit?”

“I mean it sounds so much worse when you put it like that.” Han just rolled his eyes, trying to stop his lip from twitching as he bit back a laugh.

“No shit.” Han shot back, staring at the whiteboard again.

“My guess is that he wasn’t killed there.” Han’s eyes widened. “He was planted there. See, the video doesn’t show the murder – just the cannibalism.”

“Inspector Park sent me through her preliminary report before – she said the witness told her he’d just seen the cannibalism, not the death.” Han continued. “So it’s possible.” He nibbled on his bottom lip. “But…our killer – he was really skinny. And if he was high or having a psychotic episode, there’s no way he could have moved the body.”

“So someone else moved the body.” Chris continued. “And then our suspect was let loose.” Chris sighed, rubbing his chin again. “Think about it, Hannie. You’re right. The guy in the video was definitely not in the state of mind to plot something so elaborate.”

“They killed him, marked up his leg, then moved him…” Han shook his head in disbelief. “That’s so much work and effort.”

“Exactly my point.” Chris shrugged. “It would have required a team. We’re still waiting on the results of the autopsy, to see if Tailor had drugs in his system. It was hard to tell at the crime scene, but it’s very likely he may have been tortured.” At this, Han growled in frustration.

“I can’t find anything on Tailor!” He balled his hands into fists. “Even then, what could he have possibly done to warrant something like this?!”

“It’s a revenge killing, maybe?” Chris mused. “It’s not random. It can’t be. But…that begs the question. Say there’s a group, or a mastermind – why, then, did they sacrifice one of their boys? They clearly left the killer – or snacker, I guess –” Han groaned, not missing the way Chris’ lips twitched again. “To be found. They’re not protecting him anymore – _why?”_ Han’s eyes widened.

“Diversion.” Han shot back, beginning to pace back and forth. “We’re too busy looking at one guy, and trying to catch him.” Han shook his head. “That’s what I was doing, I was so focussed on this one guy that I didn’t even think about an accomplice.”

“Fuck,” Chris spat. “I should take Binnie off of finding him, we’ve already wasted enough time.”

“Get Young K on it.” Han offered. “I have a few favours I want to call in. Him and Jae are looking for some stuff to do anyway, they haven’t got a new Constable yet after Wonpil got promoted.”

“True.” Chris mused. “I just…we need to catch him, but I don’t wanna leave it to some PCs.” Han nodded at this.

“Keep it CID.” Han stared at the whiteboard, which, in retrospect, was depressingly blank. Normally by twenty-four hours in, most of the board would have been covered in writing. “He’s divorced. No children. Hasn’t gone on any international holidays in about four years. No criminal records. Owns a local pub.”

“I guess that leaves room for enemies.” Chris frowned. “Money laundering schemes, vengeful ex-employees, competitors, if I wanna push my luck. Maybe he accidentally busted a drug trade? Could be anything, at this rate.”

“Finances were good and clean.” Han muttered. “Could be a drug bust, but my birdie said it’d been quiet down that end of town for a while.” Chris nodded, lapsing into thought.

“Who’s your birdie?” At this, Han grinned.

“They call him J.” At this, Chris smiled.

“I know him.” At this, Han raised an eyebrow. Chris shrugged. “BamBam has a couple of connections. I know J’s partner, JB. He’s my usual informant. Has eyes and ears everywhere, that one.” Chris sighed. “I’ll be spending my paycheck on soju for him, I think. He’s done some good work for me this month.” Then Chris looked up. “Did you say which pub?”

“I guess you could call it infamous.”

“Not Yellow Wood?” Chris offered, and Han snapped his fingers.

“That’s it!”

“Man, we haven’t gone there in ages.” Chris mused. “Remember when we used to go there once a month?” Han snorted at this.

“You mean once a week?”

“Once a _fortnight._ ”

“Twice a week.” Han smirked. “Or was it three times?”

“I just like a beer –”

“Or five.” Han added, and Chris rolled his eyes.

“Lay off, Hannie.” His Inspector whined, and Han chuckled.

“Someone’s gotta be on top of you, no one else is.” For a moment, Chris froze. Then, he laughed. It was high-pitched, indicating that he was nervous.

“I don’t know if you intended that to be a jab at my sex life, Han, but _ouch._ ”

“Oh, _please._ You like to pretend that you’re a top, but really –” At this, his Inspector’s ears went bright red, and Han started cackling. Chris was so easy to tease. Ever since he’d let it sleep that once he’d, and Han was quoting, ‘had been railed so hard he hadn’t walked right for a week,’ Han liked to bring it up wherever possible. Besides, joking about it helped him cope with the fact that he’d probably never get a chance to do such a thing to Chris himself, so he had to desensitise himself to it.

“I’m a top!” Chris shot back. Han grinned evilly.

“You are _not._ ” At this, his Inspector began pouting. “You’re just proving my point, Chris.” He stuck his tongue out at his Inspector.

“I’m at least a switch!” Han shrugged.

“Sure, sure. I’ll believe you topping when I see it.”

“Oh, you’d want to, would you?” Chris jibed, and Han responded without thinking.

“Of course.” He instantly realised the gravity of what he’d said and froze. Chris sensed something was off and the laughter died in his throat. He stared at Han for a moment, before frowning. His Inspector looked like he was thinking hard about something. “I – I mean – so you can prove my point.” Han added lamely, but it sounded weak in his own ears. He forced a chuckle, and Chris laughed too. Then Chris shook his head and grinned.

“Man, Hannie. Sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Chris smiled fondly at him. “I was getting stuck in my head again. Thanks for cheering me up.” His Inspector ruffled his hair, and Han found the tension was gone from his shoulders within seconds.

“You need me, huh?” He couldn’t seem to resist humiliating himself, could he?

“Badly.” Now Chris was the one smirking. His Inspector took a couple of steps towards him, leaning in close. “I need you _so_ bad, Jisungie.” Chris whispered, and the absolute _fucker_ of a man he was, decided to make it all breathy and moany. Han was going to _smack_ him because he didn’t know how he would possibly explain a hard-on in the middle of an investigation. Han knew that Chris was a naturally flirty person, but sometimes…he often wondered if it was just his brain playing tricks on him, but somehow, their conversations always seemed to end up with them flirting.

“Yeah?” He decided to push his luck. If Chris was going to play dirty, it didn’t mean he couldn’t join in on the game. It was a game. This was all just a dumb, stupid, little game, that helped to distract them before they got too tied up in the gore and frustrating dead ends of the case. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. Mind made up, Han rested his hand on his Inspector’s shirt. “Wanna say that again and see where it gets you, Inspector?”

“I just might.” Chris tapped his chin, pretending to lapse into thought. But he was smirking. Han curled his fingers around Chris’ tie, raising an eyebrow at his Inspector in challenge. To his delight, Chris immediately balked. Now his cheeks were as red as his ears. He was too easy. He couldn’t take what he dished out.

“Careful, or I’ll end up having to arrest you.” Han tugged on the tie, sternly reminding himself that this was just for fun. It wasn’t like this was something he’d like to be able to do all the time.

“I wasn’t aware I was a criminal.” Chris whispered, voice low. Han shuddered. _God,_ did that _do_ things to him. “ _Officer_.” Han felt all the blood rush from his brain towards his feet.

“Oh, please, Chris.” He whispered. Then his eyes widened. He was almost leaning against his Inspector now. Han was so, so desperate to kiss him. Han realised he was in dangerous territory. He panicked, straightening up and forcing out a laugh. Chris’ expression became unreadable. “How could you be anything but when you’re _so bad_ at flirting that it should be illegal?”

“F-flirting? I-I-I wasn’t!” Chris stammered. Now even his neck was flushed. Han wanted to hit him for being so fucking cute. It just wasn’t fair.

“Then what was this whole ruse, huh?” Han tutted, putting a hand on his hip. He hoped his voice wasn’t trembling. He’d let himself get too far. Normally he was so, so, careful. But he’d crossed a line. He couldn’t do this to his Inspector.

“Just a way to…oh, fuck it. You know what? Fancy a drink tonight, Hannie?”

“One day we’ll go for dinner and it _won’t_ be work-related.” Han sighed. He hoped he just sounded teasing, because it was true. He’d give anything to just go out to dinner with Chris, just the two of them, like…like a real date.

“Sure.” Chris shot him a grin, and Han felt his cheeks fill with heat. “Once this is over, Hannie, I’ll take you out to dinner.” Han felt hope flare in his chest, but quickly shoved it down. Chris barely thought about what he was saying at the best of times. Han knew his Inspector only meant it as something they would do as _friends._

“Cool.” He tried not to let his disappointment show. “I’ll hold you to it.” Chris ruffled his hair.

“That’s the spirit, Jisungie.” There was a knock at the door. “Come in!” Chris spun on his heel as the door creaked open. “Oh, Sana!” Chris grinned at the Sergeant. “Everything all good?” She nodded, offering him a sweet smile.

“I have the autopsy report for you. Chae said to call her if you have another question.” She handed Chris a manilla folder, completely with a little smiley face. Han instantly recognised it as Chaeyoung’s signature little scribble.

“Will do, Sana, thank you.” He held out his hand for the folder, but she frowned.

“You sure you should be looking at this?” At this, Han watched as Chris scowled.

“Did Binnie tell you something?” Sana pursed her lips together and nodded.

“Chris, it’s okay if it gets bad again.” She murmured.

“Can everyone stop babying me?” Han couldn’t help but sigh. He wished Chris wouldn’t get so defensive. The hard thing was that he understood. He hated people underestimating him, and not trusting in his abilities. But Han had never had a traumatic brain injury, and also was not an amnesiac who constantly had flashbacks about dead bodies. Han figured he was at least slightly justified in wanting to protect his Inspector.

“We’re not. We’re looking out for you.” Sana retorted, and Han reached out and squeezed Chris’ shoulder.

“It’s okay, Sana. I’ll watch out for him.” She turned her big browneyes to him and bit down on her lip.

“Okay.” She finally relented, handing the folder to Chris. “I’m trusting you with him, Han.” She sounded so uncharacteristically stern, and Han couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You sound like Inspector Park.” Sana stifled a giggle at this.

“Don’t let Nayeon hear you say that.” She whispered.

“How are you going with flagging cases?” Chris murmured, hugging the folder close to his chest before she could change her mind. “Anything popped up?” Sana frowned again, shaking her head.

“If anything, Chris, it’s been the opposite.”

“Too quiet.” Han muttered, and Sana sighed.

“Precisely. Speaking of which, I’m going to finish up my report on Nayeon’s train hijacking, then I’ll send you my findings.” With that, she poked her tongue out at Chris then gave Han a warning look. “Let me know if he’s any trouble.”

“He always is.” Han shot back cheerfully, pleased to see that that wrangled a smile out of her. As Sana shut the door behind her, Han immediately turned to Chris. _“Train_ hijacking?” His Inspector’s lips twitched.

“Just because I’m an Inspector, doesn’t mean I know everything about everyone else’s cases.” Han just stared at him with a raised eyebrow. Okay, so _maybe_ Nayeon was with her dance group in the subway and tried to intercept a robbery and it turned out that there was a gang of them and she ended up having to drive a train –”

“Drive? A train?” Han felt his jaw drop. “In this day and age?” Chris rolled his eyes.

“Look, _I_ don’t even know how it works, but she ended up in the midlands –”

“Isn’t that, like, two hours away?”

“Yes, but she didn’t want anyone to miss their stop.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not!”

“You so are!”

“I’m so not! She pretty much stole a train!” Chris shot back, before flipping open the folder. He skimmed over Chaeyoung’s summary, his eyes growing wider as he read each line. “Oh shit.”

✧✧✧

“Inspector!”

“Inspector, can you tell us the cause of death?”

“Inspector, have you caught the culprit yet? Why isn’t he behind bars? Has he escaped?”

“Inspector, how big is the team on the case?”

Han fought the urge to reach out to Chris. He hated crowds. He hated being around large groups of emotionally charged people. If it didn’t drain him, he became filled with nervous energy. It made his chest tight and everything a little unfocussed. He felt suffocated, like he’d been draped with ten weighted blankets. Usually touch made it worse, but Chris…Chris always made it better. Chris’ touch was grounding, and a reminder to breathe properly. In through his nose, out through his mouth. He and Chris had often sat with Changbin in the office going through breathing exercises with each other.

He shifted from foot to foot, staring out at the crowd of reporters. Half were seated, but there were many crammed around the sides. The flashes of their cameras and the constant _click click click_ of shutters going was beginning to overload him. his skin was beginning to feel tight, his clothing restricting. His palms were cold and clammy, but still damp with sweat. Suddenly he felt a warm hand begin to rub circles on his back. He turned to look at Chris, who was offering him a small, reassuring smile. ‘ _Breathe,’_ his Inspector mouthed, and Han gulped, nodding. Trust Chris to notice he wasn’t okay.

He couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt. He knew that Chris could become as overwhelmed as he was in these situations. But his Inspector seemed calm. Chris moved his hand to Han’s side and gently squeezed his hip bone, before picking up his notes and shuffling them on the podium in front of him.

“The official cause of death was blood loss, due to his wounds.” Chris told the room. Instantly the sound of typing and scribbling filled the room.

“What was the murder weapon, Inspector?”

“A butcher’s knife.” Chris sighed. “Mr. Tailor was also restrained for a time before his death. However, there were signs of a barbiturate overdose – namely, sodium thiopental. For now, we are assuming that this may have just been administered as a sedative.”

“Not as a truth serum?” Han saw Chris stiffen.

“The science behind that is flimsy at best.” Chris gritted his teeth. “So, refrain from jumping to conclusions just yet. I would like to reiterate that Rupert Tailor has _no_ criminal history and no connections to any crime syndicates. This is, as it currently stands, a homicide under suspicious circumstances.” There is a hum of understanding from the room, and the storm of typing starts up again.

“Inspector, any news on your suspect? Are they in custody?”

“Our suspect is a middle-aged white male, average height – five seven, five eight. He was last scene wearing a plaid jumper and jeans. He fled the scene, but we have footage from the crime scene. We are working on a positive identification for the man. I would advise that if you live in south London, particularly by the Thames, that you do not travel alone, especially at night. If you are travelling to and from work, send a family member or friend your location. Technology is a great thing.” Chris smiled, and the room rippled with soft laughter.

“Will you release the footage?”

“That is still being discussed with my Superintendent.” Han watched as Chris gripped the sides of the podium, hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He moved closer to his Inspector, enough so that their shoulders bumped. “We are doing everything we can to catch this man.”

“Inspector, your team…?”

“Myself and my partners, DS Seo and DC Han, are leading this case.” Chris gave Han a smile, and Han felt the knot in his stomach began to loosen. “We have recruited the help of Inspector Kang and his partner, and Inspector Park and her team.”

“Why such a big team?” A young woman close to the front called, and Chris ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, noticing his mistake. Han sucked in a sharp breath.

“It is imperative that we find this man as soon as possible, as he is at a high-risk for re-offending.” This seemed to satisfy the reporter, and Han slowly exhaled. Chris still seemed on edge. Han wanted to wrap an arm around his Inspector, but then caught Changbin’s eye. The Sergeant gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and Han nodded. Changbin quirked an eyebrow, and Han couldn’t help but smile. It was Changbin’s way of checking up on whether he was okay or not. He nodded, and Changbin flashed him a tiny smile.

“Is the family going to make a statement?” At this, Chris frowned.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Tailor does not have many surviving close family members. It is unlikely the family will be making a statement.

“Were there any witnesses?”

“At this current point in time, we have one witness, who captured the footage.”

“Is he in protective custody?” At this, Chris smirked and wagged a finger at the reporter, tutting.

“Now, now, you should know better than to ask that.” Han glanced at the reporter, who was wearing a lanyard marking them as an employee of _Dispatch,_ a magazine that masqueraded as a veritable source of news. “Witnesses stay out of it.” The crowd broke into an appreciative murmur. There was a reason the conference hall was packed when Chris made a statement, Han realised. Chris was just…so _real_ about it. He wasn’t just reading off a list. He took time to listen, and his care for others always somehow managed to show through at some point. The reporter frowned, before he pushed his shoulders back, jutting his chin out.

“I have one more question, then, Inspector.” _Dispatch_ employees were nothing if not tenacious, Han had to give them that.

“Yes, go right ahead.”

“Are you single?” 

Forget about tenacious, he was now on top of Han’s hit list.

✧✧✧

Felix rubbed his hands together, trying to wish away the clamminess in his fingers. He glanced over at Jeongin, who was staring – well, glaring – at the table. Jeongin had almost refused to come to London. He was loyal to Minho to a fault. Jeongin hadn’t agreed with Minho going by himself, but Minho had made them both promise to stay in Korea. And Jeongin never broke his promises.

Felix, meanwhile, had only been too happy to get away from Kwang-hoon’s oppressive clutches, even though it meant disappointing his hyung. But he knew that Minho would forgive him. He’d be grumpy, and tell them off, but Felix knew that Minho wouldn’t be able to stay mad for long.

And besides – he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see Chan in person again. Even if it _was_ under the most awful circumstances. Minho had often said his hybrid of hero worship and crush was cute, almost rivalling Minho’s own. But Felix had always quietly disagreed. Sure, when he’d first met Chan, eleven and scrawny, with a blotchy face and skinned knees, he’d thought the older man had shined as brightly as a supernova. But his awe had paled in comparison to Minho and Chan’s feelings for each other.

They’d both been so young, full of impulsive bravado. But Felix, even as young as he had been, had understood that the two were _different._ Special. They’d barely even needed words to communicate. Felix had taken to studying them one afternoon, and they’d often just stare at each other, seeming to have a conversation purely through eyebrow twitches and soft smiles. They’d been inseparable. Felix had never known that humans were capable of being so in-sync with each other until he’d met his hyungs.

When Chan disappeared, Felix had felt like a part of him had died. There was no Chan banging on his door in the morning, making sure he got out of bed. There was no Chan rubbing his shoulder when he was stressed. There was no Chan sitting beside him at three in the morning, helping him finish his homework, despite being exhausted. There were no more smiles from Minho.

Minho had become just a shell of a person.

Felix had read about it – the survivor’s guilt. But no one – even Kwang-hoon – had expected that Minho could have taken on such a large group successfully. Minho constantly muttered that he should have been able to fight off Chan’s attackers, but nothing Felix had said had made any difference. Kwang-hoon had chosen to be _lenient_ with Minho, as his hyung had put it. He’d given Minho a job. It had been the only thing that had put some semblance of motivation back into Minho.

But Felix knew now that really, Kwang-hoon hadn’t been forgiving at all – he’d subjected Minho to a fate worse than death. Minho had been only sixteen when he’d joined Kwang-hoon. He’d gone from an angry, passionate, rebellious youth, to a robot. Felix would often not see his hyung for months – Kwang-hoon would send Minho off for specialised training, or undercover missions. And each time Minho came back, Felix got the sense that Minho was hiding more than just a few skeletons in his closet. He’d watched Minho slip further and further away from his humanity. And he’d been powerless to stop it.

That was until two years later, when he’d started to look more into Chan’s death So many things hadn’t added up. There hadn’t been a funeral, or a memorial, even a private one by Chan’s parents. Just after Chan’s supposed death, his mother, A-Yeong, had left Korea. There had been no mention of divorce. One day she was there, then she just…wasn’t. But the most shocking thing was that Kwang-hoon hadn’t made any changes to his empire. Felix had expected Kwang-hoon to have another kid, so that he could make them into his heir. He’d expected extra security, he’d expected all of Kwang-hoon’s staff to get interrogated, but there had been nothing.

Felix had gone to see Kwang-hoon one day. He was freshly sixteen, clutching his findings in a little leather-bound notebook that Chan had gotten him for his thirteenth birthday. He’d gone through five hours of interrogation before he was even allowed into the building. Asking Minho would have been easier, but Minho would have adamantly refused to take him anywhere near Kwang-hoon. But Felix knew that the truth was more important than anything.

_Finally, he had been granted an audience with the King of Seoul’s underworld. Seeing Kwang-hoon was like a slap to the face. Felix could see Chan in the shape of Kwang-hoon’s brown eyes, in the curve of his nose, the sharpness of his jaw. But the calculating gleam in Kwang-hoon’s cold eyes wasn’t Chan at all._

_“Lee.” Kwang-hoon’s voice was devoid of all emotion. “Speak.” Felix clutched his notebook tighter, trying to steel himself for confrontation._

_“Chan is alive, isn’t he?” He blurted out, breath catching in his throat. Instead of becoming angry, like Felix had imagined, Kwang-hoon just laughed. He looked delighted. It made Felix feel sick._

_“I was wondering when one of his little friends would notice.” Kwang-hoon’s eyes flashed._

_“I-I have proof.” Felix stammered, offering his notebook to Kwang-hoon. But the older man ignored it._

_“Of course he isn’t dead.” Kwang-hoon snorted. My team just apprehended his attackers a little late.”_

_“Then where is he?”_

_“Far away.” Kwang-hoon’s eyes flashed. “For as long as it takes me to catch them.”_

_“And what if you never do?” Kwang-hoon’s lip curled at this._

_“Well, Lee, that depends on you.” Kwang-hoon sneered. “I have been putting a team together – Project Argus. Tasked with ensuring my son’s safety. You will learn about his new life. You will know every detail.”_

_“N-new life?” Felix stammered, confused._

_“The attack gave him amnesia.” Kwang-hoon explained, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was going to reverse it, but have decided against it. It will benefit his safety.” Felix felt something in his chest begin to ache._

_“But – but then he won’t remember me! Or Minho! O-or anything!” He knew he shouldn’t have raised his voice at Kwang-hoon. Kwang-hoon smiled at him, patronisingly, as if he was a child. “Minho doesn’t know, does he?” Felix whispered, and Kwang-hoon barked out a laugh._

_“Precisely.”_

_“He doesn’t know about_ any _of this?” Felix whispered._

_“No. Instead, I have chosen you to be the first permanent member of Project Argus, Lee.” Felix’s eyes widened._

_“W-why me?” He stammered. “Minho –”_

_“I have other plans for Minho.” Kwang-hoon waved his hand. “But for Argus…well, Lee, what do you say? You’re the best man for the job. Work for me. Sign a contract, and you will have access to Chan’s life. You will be the one responsible for his safety.” Kwang-hoon began to prowl around him, like a wildcat stalking its prey. “Think about how grateful Minho will be, knowing you chose to protect Chan. Think about how happy Chan will be, knowing his trusted friend was watching over him.” Felix stared up at Kwang-hoon, eyes wide. The sixteen-year-old began chewing on his bottom lip._

_“Okay.” Felix sighed, then nodded. “Yes, I’ll do it.” Kwang-hoon’s lips curled into something that should have been a smile, but came out more as a sneer._

_“Excellent. Welcome to Project Argus, Yongbok.”_

Felix had managed to keep his work with Kwang-hoon secret for a year. One day he’d been suiting up, about to go and meet the team of technicians who would install hidden cameras around Chan’s house in London. Felix had been stressed. It would be the first big step for Project Argus. They would no longer need to rely on moles, like BamBam, or written reports from Chaeyoung. He would be able to see everything at the touch of a button. He’d been so distracted, he hadn’t even noticed Minho stalking out of Kwang-hoon’s office, scowling.

Minho had run straight into him as he’d been fiddling with his harness. Minho had stared at him with a mixture of shock, horror, and betrayal. He’d looked equally distraught and furious. Felix had shrunk under his hyung’s fiery gaze.

But it had been worth it. That’s what Felix kept telling himself. Every time he found a pattern, or was able to string two ideas together, it was a win. But it was slow going. Chan’s attackers had seemingly disappeared off the face of the Earth. When three years had passed without any sign of a new murder, Felix had gone to Kwang-hoon with relief. But instead, the older man had been furious.

They’d caught on, Felix realised. They knew that they were being watched.

Suddenly, trails went cold. Witnesses turned up dead or missing. Kwang-hoon was finding moles left, right, and centre. Now Felix avoided the friends he had in Project Argus. He’d ended up scrapping his entire roster of personnel and starting from scratch. He’d recruited a boy named Jeongin. He’d been a scrawny little kid then, with braces and a cheeky grin. He’d been full of the desire to prove himself, hungry for success.

But despite Felix's desperate attempts to convince Kwang-hoon to add Minho to Project Argus, his boss had just glared him down.

 _“Not yet.”_ Was the response he got every time. Soon all Felix was doing with his days was keeping track of Chan’s day-to-day life. Watching, waiting, for the day when the cycle would start again. He’d watched Chan – or Chris, as he went by now, grow from an insecure teenager to a boisterous young adult to a wise, empathetic, reliable man. His adopted big brother, oceans away, had always seemed so far out of reach. Felix hadn’t ever considered that he’d ever get to _see_ Chan again. And now here Felix was in London, determined that this time, no one would touch Chan again.

“You okay, Lix?” Jeongin gently nudged his arm, bringing him back to the present. “You zoned out again.” Felix glanced around at the tired occupants of the bar. It was ten at night, making it rather secluded. Most of the patrons seemed to prefer to drink away their troubles than focus on what two young strangers were whispering about in the corner, thankfully. Felix scanned the room again, but no one made eye contact with him.

“Sorry,” Felix carded a hard through his shaggy blonde hair with a sheepish grin, now turning his attention to his younger partner. “You know how I get.”

“Astronaut.” Jeongin teased, poking him in the ribs. “Head so far in the clouds you ended up on the moon, huh?” Felix couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “Hey, when are we letting Minho-hyung know that we’re here?”

“Only when we pin down the bait.” Felix murmured.

“You mean, only so we have news to distract hyung with.” Jeongin muttered, now frowning.

“You think he’s going to be real mad, huh?” Felix poked Jeongin’s shoulder. “Cheer up! It’ll work out.” But Jeongin just glared at him. “You didn’t have to come.” Felix sighed.

“No way was I letting you go to a completely different time zone by yourself.” Jeongin grumbled. “Anyway, why are we here in this shitty bar, Felix? Enough stalling.”

“We’re meeting up with the new guy we put in CID.” Felix pulled his cider towards him, taking a swig.

“Oh, that Kim guy?” Jeongin’s eyebrows raised. “Okay. He seemed pretty cool.”

“Just ‘okay?’” Felix smirked at the younger man. “ _Please,_ you’ve had the biggest crush on him since we sent him out to London.”

“I do not!” Jeongin squawked, indignant.

“Whenever he sends us intel, you get so excited.” Felix teased. “It’s always, ‘oh, has Seungmin-ssi written yet? Should we check in on Seungmin-ssi?’” Felix smirked. “Please, he’s not just ‘that Kim guy,’ and you know it!”

“Shut up!” Jeongin shot back. The door opened, and Felix and Jeongin both sat up as straight, fast as lightning. 

“That should be him.” Felix’s eyes narrowed when he saw Seungmin step into the bar, flanked by an all-too familiar blonde.

“Isn’t that…” Jeongin frowned.

“Constable Hwang?” Felix mused. “I wonder why he’s tagging along.”

“This is gonna make life difficult.” Jeongin grumbled.

“Please,” Felix scoffed. “You’re just jealous.”

“Am not!” Jeongin grumbled. In an effort to blend in, Seungmin had become close to one of the other recruits at the academy, named Hyunjin Hwang. Felix had become secretly overjoyed by this arrangement when Hyunjin had begun growing his hair. If he was going to collect intel, he was all-too happy to have someone pretty to look at while he did so. While Jeongin was complaining next to him, Felix was drifting, watching Seungmin’s tall companion with awe. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not.”

“Just admit that you think he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen –”

“Did you read my encrypted logs before I edited them?!”

“So, it’s true then.” Jeongin told him, smug.

“Shut up, brat.” Felix muttered, and Jeongin giggled.

“You’re lucky hyung isn’t here, or he’d hit you.”

 _“Jeongin.”_ Felix whined. “You must be the most spoiled maknae ever.”

“Precisely.” Jeongin smirked. “I’m the maknae on top, remember?”

“All too well.” Felix groaned. “Anyway – they’re probably just celebrating being on the case.” Felix whispered, trying to get Jeongin off his back.

“Please, I bet you _asked_ Seungmin-ssi to bring Constable Hwang.” Jeongin shot back.

“Alright, alright, I’ll lay off the teasing. Happy?” Felix sighed. He caught Seungmin’s eye and gave a little wave. He watched as Seungmin nodded back. Felix saw the two Constables talk for a few more moments, before Hyunjin strode over to the bar, giving the bartender a winning smile. Seungmin then slipped away. Within seconds, he was sliding into the seat beside Jeongin. Felix desperately tried not to cackle as Jeongin went gone red, going nearly the same colour as his newly dyed hair.

“Nice to finally meet you, Agent Yongbok, Agent I.N.” Seungmin offered them a winning smile, and Felix noticed that Jeongin’s eyes began shining. The poor kid looked starstruck, and Felix thought it was hilarious. “I can’t stay long. Hyunjin decided to tag along. I couldn’t tell him I was going to a bar by myself.” Felix nodded at this.

“That’s fine. We won’t keep you, then. Jeongin, did you wanna –” But his partner looked a little slack-jawed. He was a lost cause, clearly. Felix sighed. “You got assigned to the taskforce, right? The one looking into the murders?” Seungmin nodded at this.

“Yeah. Good call, assigning me to Inspector Park. She’ll know everything, so therefore, I will too.”

“It’s nice having a decent insider.” Felix grinned at the Constable. “You’re not an idiot, unlike most of them.” Seungmin smirked at this. Wrangling Seungmin’s assignation had been a little tricky. He’d had to rely on Chaeyoung, one of their moles posing as a forensic pathologist. BamBam, now buddies with the Assistant Chief Constable of the district, had also managed to help. Felix couldn’t help but groan. Right, BamBam. He had to keep Minho and BamBam away from each other. If Minho found out that Chris had so obviously had feelings for BamBam, well…Felix didn’t want to be the one to mop up the blood.

“Well, what can I say. I hate to disappoint.” He glanced at the bar, where Hyunjin was now engaged in an animated discussion with the bartender. “He’s probably talking about some expensive whiskey.” Seungmin chuckled. “He’ll be there a while.” Seungmin ran a hand through his hair, exposing his forehead, and Felix swore he heard Jeongin _squeak._ “Constable Han and Chan just brainstormed and planned for the press conference.” Seungmin began. “I interviewed the witness with Inspector Park, but it was a waste of time. He didn’t give us anything the footage didn’t.” Seungmin dug in his pocket for a moment, before handing Felix a yellow usb stick.

“Thanks.” Felix flashed Seungmin a smile. “What about Chan’s other partner? Seo, right? What did he do?” Jeongin normally kept tabs on Chan’s partners, so Felix didn’t know much about them.

“He was in charge of catching the bait.” Felix snorted at this. “Poor guy. It’s almost impossible unless you’re us.” Seungmin just shrugged.

“They’re working with what they’ve got.” Seungmin told him, and Felix nodded. “But I think Chan figured out that he isn’t an important target, he took Seo off that assignment and gave it to another Inspector…um…Young-hyun, I think. They called him Young K.”

“BamBam knows him.” Jeongin was nodding as he spoke. “He’s good. A little more senior than Inspector Park.”

“Wow.” Felix whistled softly. “They’re really using all their big guns.”

“Nothing fun happened at the press conference.” Seungmin added. “But I should be able to get the autopsy report for you –”

“Already got it.” Felix grinned. “Chaeyoung sent it through.” At this, Seungmin just laughed.

“I forget how much they’ve been infiltrated. There’s really no way of escaping Kwang-hoon, huh? He sinks his teeth in and doesn’t let go.”

“Oath.” Felix muttered. “Anything else to report, Seungmin?” The other man shrugged.

“I think that’s it if you’ve got the autopsy report. We’re pretty much sitting on our asses until we catch the bait.”

“We’re all over it.” Felix assured him, before side-eying Jeongin. “Well, Jeonginnie is, anyway. He’s great with video analysis.” Seungmin turned to Jeongin, who didn’t have time to throw Felix a glare before he was met with the full blinding glow of Seungmin’s mega-watt smile.

“I’m sure. I.N.-ssi, you seem really smart. I’m glad we’ll be working together more closely.” At this, Jeongin swallowed hard, before nodding quickly.

“Th-thanks, Seungmin-ssi!” He stammered out, and Seungmin’s smile somehow managed to grow even bigger.

“You know,” Seungmin began, looking thoughtful. “You sounded a little scary through our correspondences. But you’re actually kinda cute.” Felix could have _howled_ with laughter at the look of shock that twisted Jeongin’s face. Jeongin stammered out something that could have been interpreted as _‘uhyeahthanksyoutooyou’recutetoo’,_ before looking horrified at the garbled mess that had come from his own mouth. Felix finally decided to have pity on Jeongin before the younger man somehow manage to summon Minho to come and smack him upside the head.

“Okay, Seungmin-ssi, go back to Constable Hwang before he comes over here. We’ll let you know when we track down the bait.” Seungmin nodded at this.

“Anything new you want me to do?” But Felix shook his head.

“As you were. They don’t suspect anything?” Seungmin just rolled his eyes.

“I thought you picked me because I’m good at my job.”

“You are!” That was Jeongin. Felix raised an eyebrow at him. _‘So now he speaks.’_ Felix couldn’t wait to tease Jeongin later.

“Oh?” Seungmin turned to his partner, smirking. “Thanks, Agent I.N.”

“Call him Jeongin.” Felix added, before Jeongin could make more of an idiot of himself. “And call me Felix. We’ll be working closely together for a couple months, probably.”

“Call me Seungmin, then.” The Constable flashed the pair a smile. “Alright, I’ll see you around, then?”

“Keep up the good work.” Felix told him. Seungmin nodded, getting to his feet and heading over to Hyunjin. Then Felix turned back to Jeongin, a shit-eating grin on his face. “You have _the biggest_ crush on him, Jeonginnie!”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m going to tell hyung on you!”

“No, please don’t, I take it back, I’m sorry –”

“Who’s the maknae on top?”

“You are, you are, I said I’m _sorry,_ Jeonginnie. Hey! That’s mine! Don’t drink it!” Suddenly, the door swung open again. Felix’s eyes widened in shock. “Jeongin, Jeongin, get under the table, right fucking now.” Jeongin, for once, didn’t question him, only hesitating to grab his beer to take it under the table with him. “You’ll never guess who walked in.” Felix hissed. “It’s Chan and his Constable, Han.” Jeongin’s jaw dropped.

“As promised, Hannie, it’ll be my treat – oh! Seungmin, Hyunjin! Fancy seeing you two here.” Chan’s voice carried easily. Jeongin and Felix exchanged glances. They couldn’t leave. They weren’t allowed to be seen by Chan, not unless Minho facilitated it. Kwang-hoon had been strict on who Chan could see from Korea.

“It’s going to be a long night.” Felix sighed. Jeongin peeked out at the bar, then smirked.

“I don’t think so. We’ve got free entertainment.” Felix shifted a little bit closer to the edge of the table. He noted the way that Han’s hand rested on Chan’s lower back, and Hyunjin’s hand was placed on Chan’s shoulder. Han wasn’t even bothering to hide his glare and was shooting daggers at Hyunjin with his eyes. “Bets on who wins the glaring contest?”

“Hyunjin.” Felix blurted out, and Jeongin smirked again.

“Love has really made you blind.” Jeongin tutted, and Felix aimed a jab at his ribs. “Anyone would be able to tell that Han’s going to win. He’s burning with the fury of a thousand suns.” Felix scoffed.

“If that’s a thousand, what’s Minho-hyung? A whole fucking galaxy?”

“Try a super cluster.” Felix giggled, watching as Chan, completely oblivious, started up a conversation with Seungmin. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a long night after all. And soon, they’d get to meet up with Minho. Then, maybe, Felix would be able to look Chan in the eyes again, after so many years.

“Hi, Channie-hyung.” Felix whispered to himself. “I missed you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS I  
> THE BOYS ARE ALL HERE!!!  
> i ended up writing the little felix and jeongin scene and then...a whole chapter also followed.  
> apologies if it's rough, i didn't stare at this one tearing my hair out for a long as i have with the others. it was more of a fun, chill chapter, definitely more filler and to fill out the plot. so i figured i'd post it as a little bonus, then leave the next heavy chapter to my usual saturday update.  
> anyway! i hope you enjoy. i wanted to set up chansung's dynamic a little more, and that they do actually get work soon.  
> thank you for reading, i'll see you on saturday!


	6. Erroneous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You seem to forget that if a murder happens every day, or even every couple of days, they’ll be after Chan in less than a fortnight.”

_[Containing errors.]_

_[“Don’t bear the pain alone anymore.”]_

**Wednesday, morning**

Hyunjin felt uneasy. He didn’t know how to carry himself. He’d arrived at work that morning to the station being in a state of chaos. Jihyo had told him to go and see Changbin, before she’d rushed out the door with Seungmin in tow. Changbin hadn’t been happy to see him, muttering something about babysitting, before calling out for Chris.

Thankfully, Chris had given him a winning smile, and Hyunjin had felt himself begin to relax. Han had ignored him, choosing to stare at Chris instead. Hyunjin didn’t know why the other Constable was so offended, frankly. Han had been the one to join CID at such a young age, getting to run down the golden pathway of Hyunjin’s dreams before Hyunjin had even blinked. Han had no right to be so aloof with him.

Hyunjin rationalised it as Han perceiving him as a threat. They’d always been neck and neck at the academy, and had constantly been at each other’s throats as police constables. Hyunjin highly suspected that Han was trying to shut him out. The other Constable monopolised Chris’ attention without even seeming to really try, and Changbin was too busy going through his case notes to acknowledge Hyunjin.

To make it worse, 3Racha spoke in what seemed like a code. Hyunjin could barely keep up. Their exchanges were so rapid-fire and full of slang that he could only pick out a few words at a time. Not to mention, half the time they seemed to finish each other’s sentences. Hyunjin had only just managed to grasp that they’d be splitting up again before 3Racha nodded to each other and began to break away. 

“Can I ask why we’re splitting off again?” He didn’t mean to snap, but he was sick of being left on the wayside.

“There’s been another murder.” Han told him, without taking his eyes off of Chris. Hyunjin just stared at him for a moment, gobsmacked. Why had no one seemed to have found it a priority to tell him this? He was Jihyo’s Constable, and she was heavily embroiled in the case. That gave Hyunjin just as much of a right as Han to know what was going on. Seungmin always seemed to be in the right place at the right time. So far, Hyunjin’s fellow Constable had managed to stick to Jihyo’s side like glue. While happy for his friend, Hyunjin couldn’t help but feel a little resentment. He felt like he was constantly getting left behind. He waited for Chris to turn to Changbin before leaning over to Han.

“You didn’t think it was important to tell me this earlier?” He hissed in Han’s ear.

“If you’d really wanted to know what was going on, I figured you would’ve asked.” Han shot back. Hyunjin clenched his jaw. He wanted to scream. It was his third day on the force, for fuck’s sake, and Han seemed to revel in making his life as difficult as possible.

“Fine. Be unhelpful. That’s all you seem to be good for.” Hyunjin shot back under his breath. He clearly hadn’t been quiet enough, because Han shot him a venomous glare. “Two can play at that game.” Hyunjin muttered. “Inspector!” Chris looked over at him, a smile lighting up his face. Hyunjin didn’t miss the way that Han stiffened. “What’s the plan?” He shoved past Han until he was staring down at Chris, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind his ear.

“The plan is to split up after we leave the crime scene.” Chris told him. “You’ll be with Changbin, and I’ll stick with Han.” Chris hummed in thought for a moment. “You know, I’m glad you’ll be with us. Hopefully we’ll be able to teach you a thing or two.” Hyunjin nodded, and Chris clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “Although, I should warn you. Rookie drives.” At this, Hyunjin heard a giggle. He turned to see that Changbin was snickering. When Hyunjin locked eyes with the Sergeant, Changbin glared at him and looked away. Hyunjin wondered if he’d just imagined it. While Chris intimidated him, Changbin actually scared him. Chris had an aura around him that made Hyunjin want to respect him. Changbin, meanwhile, had an aura of ‘will punch you in the face if you say one more dumb thing.’ “Alright! Let’s go.” The Inspector swung his satchel over his shoulder, motioning for the other three to follow him.

Hyunjin bounded down the stairs, hurrying to keep up with Chris. He decided that from nw on, the less he spoke to Han, the better. No one needed a confrontation between them to add to the mounting pressure that came with a second murder. Hyunjin knew that it would be better to stick close to Chris – so far, it was working in his favour. And speaking of the devil – Chris chose that moment to slide into the passenger seat, shooting him a grin.

“Do I go the speed limit, Inspector?” Hyunjin asked, and Chris laughed.

“Hyunjin, call me Chris.” Hyunjin flushed at this. “And I don't care. We're on a case, go as fast as you like." Hyunjin nodded, and began heading down the street. "Left here." Chris told him, and then sighed. "Don't freak out on me once I start giving you the gory details." Hyunjin felt the excitement that had risen in him wash away as reality took his place. "The victim is Lara Hale. Mid-thirties, accountant, unmarried. Middle-class, living comfortably by herself." Hyunjin glanced across at Chris, surprised that the Inspector already knew so much.

"First trick of the trade – run a quick background check as soon as you get a call. Shouldn't take long at all, and it's worth not walking into a murder case blind." That was Changbin. Hyunjin nodded, tucking the piece of information away for later.

"Murder was called in by her friend. Turn right here." Hyunjin nearly missed the turn, and cursed under his breath. "Keep going straight." Chris told him, and Hyunjin nodded, waiting for the Inspector to finish filling him in. "She wasn't at work yesterday and wasn't returning any calls. Friend finds the door unlocked, walks in, finds the body in the living room." Hyunjin winced at this. "SOCOs should already be there, but we shouldn't be far behind." 

"How'd she die?" He asked, and Chris sighed.

"We'll find out." That was Han’s voice. Hyunjin glanced at the Constable in the rear-view mirror. He hadn’t forgotten how sullen Han had been sullen when Chris had informed him that Hyunjin was tagging along. Whatever. It wasn’t Hyunjin’s problem. He was here to impress Chris and Changbin, and to get himself some experience. He didn’t care about whether Han got butthurt or not. The four lapsed into silence. It wasn't long before Chris told him to pull over. Hyunjin spotted police vehicles up ahead and felt a thrill of nervousness. They’d arrived. The Detectives wasted no time in marching up to the uniformed police officers clustered outside. Chris flashed his badge without stopping to exchange greetings. The rest of 3Racha did the same. The officers nodded and let them through. 

“This is DC Hwang, he’s with us.” Chris clapped a hand onto Hyunjin’s shoulder, giving him some reassurance. Hyunjin felt his back prickle as he tailed behind Chris, aware that he was being scrutinised. He didn’t know how Chris kept up the confident exterior. Hyunjin already felt shaky, and they hadn’t even made it through the front door. Lara's house was small but sensible, in a mundane neighbourhood where people mostly kept to themselves. He suddenly felt as though he was being watched.

He glanced over his shoulder to find himself being eyed by some of the neighbours, who had their faces pressed up against the glass. “Hyunjin,” Chris called, and he hurried up the stairs to the front door. At the top of the stairs was a young woman, whose eyes were red and swollen. She was being soothed by a pair of younger police officers. The officers looked down at the two Detectives, and Hyunjin could tell that the other officers already knew who Chris was. They gave him a nod and scampered to the side.

"You must be Lara's friend. What's your name?" Chris asked the distraught woman, his voice filled with the perfect amount of warmth.

"M-Millie." She choked out. "Millie Roberts." Chris put a comforting hand on her shoulder and looked up at the two officers. 

"Take her home." Hyunjin was surprised at the care that the Inspector was exuding. "This is Detective Constable Hwang and Detective Constable Han.” Chris pointed to the Constables. “This is Detective Sergeant Seo. I’m Detective Inspector Smith, but feel free to call me Chris. One of the Constables will probably come by and talk to you later, Millie." Hyunjin flashed Millie a smile, and she returned it with a wobbly one of her own. “We’ll do everything we can to find who did this to her, I promise.” With this, Chris nodded to the two PCs and continued into the house.

"Rule two – treat witnesses nicely, they'll be more likely to open up later." Changbin was the one to explain. Hyunjin’s eyes widened. So there _had_ been an ulterior motive behind the concern Chris had shown to the young woman. Chris looked around the hallway, deep in thought. He headed for the door that was gaping open. Inside were forensics, crowding around near the coffee table, taking photos. Chris cleared his throat. "Morning, lads." Chris flashed his badge again, and the forensics dispersed, giving the four Detectives clear access to the body. Hyunjin felt a lump rise in his throat. The body of Lara Hale was in clear view now. She was lying on her side, arms flung out in front of her. He stepped closer.

“Who closed the curtains?” Changbin muttered. “Turn on the bloody lights." The Sergeant growled, peering down at the body and squinting in the half-light. The forensics were setting up their camera lights, and the room was dimly lit. They stumbled over each other to do the Sergeant’s bidding.

Hyunjin blinked at the room was suddenly bathed in bright white light. He could see the body clearly now. There were bruises on her arms, shaped like fingers, and she was still wearing her sleepwear. There were deep cuts on her arms, where she’d raised them up to protect herself from a knife. Chris knelt down beside her and sucked in a breath.

“Changbin.” He called softly. Hyunjin watched as Changbin made his way over to the Inspector. Hyunjin sidled forwards, trying to hear what Chris was murmuring to Changbin. "Look at her neck." Chris was muttering. Lara's chin had been forced up and Hyunjin could clearly see the dark and angry bruises on her neck. Her face was swollen and purple, and her tongue was hanging out of her mouth. Her face was twisted in agony, and Hyunjin felt a wave of nausea wash over him. There was no doubt about it – quiet accountant Lara Hale had been brutally murdered. He peered closer. 

"Where's the murder weapon?" Chris asked. No one responded, and he looked around at the forensics. "Where is it?" Chris repeated, his voice hardening. "There has to have been a rope, or some sort of material." 

“We didn’t find any, Inspector.” One of the forensics murmured, and Hyunjin watched as Chris clenched his jaw.

"Could have been done by hand." Han murmured. But Chris was shaking his head, his eyes fixed on Hale’s throat. 

“Probably not. That looks like a proper garotte was used.” Hyunjin muttered, breathless. He remembered that from training. Asphyxiation by hand usually took more time and was often clumsy.

"Well done, Hyunjin.” Chris turned to give Hyunjin a quick nod of approval. He inhaled deeply at the acknowledgement. He was fine. He could do this. He just had to keep himself from getting overwhelmed. Hyunjin watched as Han kneeled down next to the Inspector, who began gesturing to the corpse’s throat. “See, Hannie – you can see where it cut into her neck." Chris reached into his coat pocket and dug out gloves. Slipping them on, he gently began to prod at her neck. "This isn't all bruising." He muttered. "Some of this is dried blood. They had to cut it off her." Changbin hummed in thought at Chris’ discovery.

"They didn't run after they killed her." Han sat back on his haunches and scanned her body. "This position – it's not a natural way to die, and it'd be hard to strangle someone when they're lying like that." He looked around the room. It looked normal. Even the rug wasn't ruffled. “I’d say she wasn't killed in this room. No sign of a struggle. No blood on the carpet, despite the knife wounds." Hyunjin hated to admit it, but he was beginning to see why Chris had probably picked Han to become a Detective, all those years ago. While it seemed obvious now, Hyunjin wouldn’t have ever thought of picking up on small details like that. Begrudgingly, he eyed Han with respect.

"That makes it sound like the killer _wanted_ her to be found." Changbin sounded doubtful, but Chris was nodding. 

"I agree. If you didn’t want a body to be found, why waste so much time in cutting away the murder weapon, when they could have been erasing actual evidence? Why arrange her body like this?" The Inspector asked, looking up at Changbin.

"I see what you're saying.” Changbin was nodding. “It had to have been planned, then. We know the door wasn't forced open – it was unlocked." Hyunjin looked down at Lara's body.

"Maybe she knew whoever killed her." He blurted out. Chris pursed his lips in thought.

"Maybe.” But the Inspector had that thoughtful look on his face again. “But I see what you’re saying. There was no sign of forced entry. Good pick up, Hyunjin.” Hyunjin couldn't help but feel grateful. Chris was taking what he was saying into consideration, not just dismissing it. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of appreciation for the Inspector. “Time to investigate the rest of the house." Chris muttered to the other Detectives, before turning to the forensics. "We're done now. Don't move the body until you've taken clear photos of the way she was positioned." As he took another look at the body, his body seemed to have finally decided that it was sick of the sight. He was imagining Hale’s terror as she was set upon, her desperate fight for oxygen. It made his head swim with nausea. He dashed out of the room. Surprisingly, it was Han that followed him into the hallway.

“Snap out of it.” The other Constable didn’t look at him as he spoke. “It’s better not to think about it.” Hyunjin nodded, inhaling deeply.

“I just – keep thinking – about how she must have felt.” Hyunjin rested his back against the wall, sliding onto his haunches. Han sighed, but then took a seat beside him.

“Yeah. It’s…it’s hard, sometimes.”

“And you did this five years ago.” Hyunjin rested his face in his hands. “And the whole time, I was jealous of you, when you had to go through all of this.” He looked over to see that Han was surprised. Han blinked at him a few times, before rubbing the back of his neck.

“I was lucky. I was with Chris as soon as I was out of training.” Han inhaled deeply, pursing his lips together. “I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through it without 3Racha – Changbin and Chris, I mean.”

“In training, it was so easy to just remind myself that the cases either weren’t real, or they’d already been solved.” Hyunjin murmured. “But _we’re_ responsible for her getting justice. That’s on us. And I keep thinking that she must have been so fucking scared, and what if the bastards that did this get away with it. What then, Han?” Hyunjin watched as Han clenched his jaw.

“You keep going. You take the loss and chase after a win.” Hyunjin’s head snapped up at Chris’ voice.

“Inspector, I –” Chris cut him off with a shake of his head.

“It’s Chris, remember?” Chris offered a hand to Hyunjin. Hyunjin hesitated, but then let Chris pull him to his feet. “I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I should have kept more of an eye on you.” Hyunjin was surprised to hear guilt in the Inspector’s voice. It wasn’t Chris’ job to take care of him. They weren’t partners. Chris, as the Inspector, should have been the most distracted by the crime scene. Yet here he was, trying to take care of Hyunjin. Hyunjin clenched his jaw, forcing his shoulders back.

“I’ll be fine, Inspec – Chris.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Han glanced over at Hyunjin and gave him a nod. Hyunjin nodded back. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air between them. ‘ _Let’s call a truce, yeah?_ ’ Han patted Hyunjin’s shoulder, and Hyunjin took a deep breath. He could do this.

“Thanks, Hannie.” Chris reached out and ruffled Han’s hair. Han smiled at Chris, his eyes brimming with warmth. Hyunjin’s curious gaze flicked between the two men. Han cleared his throat, looking away from Chris once he realised Hyunjin was watching.

“Come on, let’s keep looking.” Han was all business now. Hyunjin looked over at Han in surprise. Han had certainly changed a lot. When they’d been in training together, Han had been meek and quiet, barely ever voicing his thoughts. Now he was giving orders and speaking to his Inspector with authority, like they were equals. And Chris seemed happy with it, meaning that Han had gained his respect. Hyunjin shook his head in disbelief. Five years had changed Han more than he had ever thought possible.

✧✧✧

The murder had seemed so gruesome, and yet there was nothing special about Lara at all. Chris couldn’t figure it out. It was reminding him far too much of Tailor’s case. It was extraordinary murder for extraordinarily _ordinary_ woman. Chris shook his head and forced his mind to the matter at hand. He had to get his head out of the Tailor case, or it could cloud his judgement. He knew that was an all-too real possibility. He was looking around the bedroom now, trying to find something out of place.

He started walking around with his eyes on the ground of the bedroom, trying to find a splash of blood, even one thread of the carpet out of place. He ended up sitting on the edge of the neatly made bed, curling his hands into fists. He looked over the bed carefully. It was as if it hadn't been touched. Then he jumped to his feet as if electrocuted. He already knew that Lara hadn't been killed in the living room. But she'd still been in her pyjamas. He began taking the pillows off the bed, and ripped the sheets off, stripping the mattress bare. Hyunjin was watching him with wide eyes, bemused.

"Gotcha." Chris whispered. There was a blood stain on the mattress. "Changbin!" He yelled over his shoulder. No answer. "Han!" That was when he heard footsteps coming down the hall towards him, and he relaxed. Han hurried into the room, eyes wide.

“Why did you strip the bed?" Han seemed confused.

"Look, on the mattress –" Han’s eyes widened as he made his over to Chris, staring down at the bloodstained mattress.

"That bastard." Han hissed. "They killed her while she slept. Didn't even give her a chance to defend herself. But if she was asleep, why was the door unlocked?” Hyunjin’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought about that. His skin crawled as he thought of someone slipping into an apartment in the dead of night, searching for their prey.

“Maybe she just forgot to lock the door?” Hyunjin suggested weakly.

“No,” Chris muttered. “They knew _exactly_ what they were doing.”

“But why cover up the blood here, only to make her body easy to find?" Chris was continuing. His jaw was clenched, and a muscle in his cheek was jumping. It made no sense. He looked over at the bedside table.

“They would’ve had to have made the bed.” Han whispered, and Chris felt his blood run cold again. He shuddered. “They would have had to have rummaged through all of her stuff…”

“Not unless they already knew her and her house.” Hyunjin muttered, and Chris felt his stomach begin to churn. In his haste at clearing the bed, he'd knocked some papers onto the ground. He bent to pick them up. He froze when he saw smears of blood on them and hurried to scan the documents. His brows drew together in thought before he sucked in a sharp breath.

He began rifling through the rest of the papers on the bedside table. There were grainy shots clearly taken from security footage, showing a woman – Chris assumed it was Lara – tucking money into her bag. He didn’t know what to make of it until he began scanning over another sheet of paper. His eyes narrowed. “Oh, fuck.” He muttered, once he realised what he was seeing. There was an official paper record from an accounting company and a daily receipt. Nothing out of the ordinary. But the handwritten totals on the next page told a different story. There was no substantial difference between the two totals, but Chris already suspected he knew what he was looking at. He flipped through the next few pages, finding the same thing. He shoved a hand through his hair, gritting his teeth.

"Chris?" Han sounded cautious, as if unsure how to approach him. Chris supposed it must have looked like he'd gone mad, staring at pieces of paper with wide eyes.

"Hale wasn't as innocent as we first thought." He shoved some of papers at Han, who was bemused. "She was skimming money." Han shook his head in disbelief, and swore loudly.

“But why would she just leave these lying around?"

"'Crazy accountant gets revenge on money-hungry employee'?" Han raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it." Chris bit down on his tongue. 

"Ah, hell." He massaged her temples. "Let's head back. Hyunjin, get Changbin in here, please.” Hyunjin nodded, eyes wide, scrambling out of the room. "Go wait in the car, Han. Take those papers with you." Han opened his mouth to protest, but Chris fixed him with a pointed stare. The Constable nodded, gathering up the documents and stepping out of the room. He headed to the front door but lingered at the entrance. He heard Changbin’s voice coming from the living room, telling forensics to begin going over the rest of the house with a fine-toothed comb. Chris thought of Hale’s face, her twisted expression. She was a simple accountant. Why had she been killed? He began nibbling on his bottom lip, his head whirling with theories and possibilities. 

"Find anything?" A familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Changbin. 

"More than we'd bargained for." Chris admitted. "This case is going to get complicated."

"As if Tailor’s case wasn’t bad enough." Chris thought about the papers he’d held in his hands. It was pretty damning evidence. If Hale had still been alive, she would have been arrested and sent to jail. Fraud had become a pretty serious offence. The more he thought about it, the more it didn't add up. Hale wouldn't have kept that sort of evidence just lying around. The _point_ of skimming was to hide it, and to leave no evidence.

But someone had dug out these documents and had put them there in plain sight. The murder looked premeditated, and the killer had gone into Hale’s house knowing exactly what they were looking for. The papers had been there for them to find. Her body had been there for them to find. But why hide the bloodstains? If the killer was so smart, why had they left the blood on the mattress? He thought about how some of the papers were smeared with dried blood. His pulse quickened.

What if it wasn't just Hale’s blood on the mattress? The killer may have realised too late that the blood on the sheets and mattress hadn't just been Hale’s, even leaving the crime scene before realising their lapse of judgement. It was a stretch. He'd need to see the street's security footage before anything could be confirmed.

“Let’s get going. I want to look at those documents.” Chris began nibbling his lip. Suddenly a wave of nausea washed over him, and he felt dizzy. His head began to spin. He clenched his hands together and closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He wasn’t going to pass out this time. He couldn’t afford to.

_A young woman’s twisted body, hanging from the roof, like some sort of sick décor. He was transfixed, unable to look away –_

“Chris!” Changbin started shaking his shoulder. “You okay?” Chris looked over at the Sergeant, breathing hard. So he’d seen this one before, as well. They were few discrepancies between Hale’s corpse and the one he’d just seen, but if this had triggered a flashback, he wasn’t going to ignore it.

“Y-yeah.” Changbin rubbed the back of his neck soothingly as he tried to ground himself.  
“We can take a break.” Changbin’s voice was soft. He wrapped an arm around Chris, squeezing him tight. Chris looked over at him and couldn’t help but smile. If he told anyone how soft the gruff DS Seo could be, no one would believe him. Chris shook his head and straightened himself up.

“It wasn’t a bad one, Binnie. I’ll be alright.”

“If you’re sure.” Changbin squeezed his arm before letting him go.

“I’ll be fine.” Chris patted his shoulder, holding his gaze until Changbin nodded, taking a step back.

“Chris, I was going to say…” Changbin started fidgeting back and forth. “If Minho knew about Tailor’s murder, do you think he’d know anything about this one?” Chris looked at him with wide eyes. Changbin looked like he hated suggesting that they ask for Minho’s help, but Chris saw his point.

“Only one way to find out.”

✧✧✧

“Usually they happened once a week, or every fortnight.” Minho was muttering. “This is too close for comfort.” Han watched as Minho paced back and forth. “Too many things are different.” Han was growing dizzy, watching Minho trot around in front of him. While the Detectives had rushed to the murder scene, Minho had delegated himself to Chris’ office. By now, he’d apparently grown sick of taunting Seungmin and Tzuyu, who had been tasked with keeping an eye on him.

Changbin and Chris were reporting on Hale’s murder to the Superintendent. Jihyo had taken Hyunjin and Seungmin to go and interview Roberts, Hale’s friend, and to do some door-to-door work. That had left Han on babysitting duty, even though Minho had insisted that _he_ was the one babysitting Han.

“But why –”

“They must have a different leader.” Minho had begun cracking his knuckles, prompting Han to get to his feet. He padded over to Minho, stopping the other man in his tracks by grabbing his shoulders.

“Breathe, man.” Han patted Minho’s shoulders, giving him a small smile. “We’ll figure this out. Why don’t we get started on putting evidence together, or something, while we wait for the others get back?” Minho was silent. “We can’t do anything until they get back.” Han insisted. “Let’s just chill, Minho.” At this, Minho’s features twisted with anger. He wrenched himself from Han’s grasp, eyes alight.

“You seem to forget that if a murder happens every day, or even every couple of days, they’ll be after Chan in less than a fortnight.” Most people would shout when angry, their voice flaring with heat. But not Minho. Minho’s voice was soft, perilous and full of quiet venom. Han clenched his jaw. “Last time they were almost successful, Han.” Han didn’t miss the hint of desperation that slipped into Minho’s voice. This time, Minho took a step forward. Their faces were a hairsbreadth apart.

Han could feel Minho’s breath on his face, and it made his heart skip a beat. For a moment, it seemed like the rest of the room faded away. Han found himself getting lost in the deep sea of Minho’s eyes. He desperately tried to decipher the emotions he found there, but it was hopeless. When Minho had his walls up, no one would be able to get through. “We need to solve this.” Minho turned sharply on his heel, leaving Han with whiplash as the bubble that had formed around them burst. He shook his head to clear it. “I thought we’d have at least a month, maybe two.” The realisation hit Han like a sack of cement. He felt the breath leave his lungs. He understood Minho’s anger now. “If we don’t solve this, I have to take him back with me.” Minho practically spat.

 _“What?”_ Han’s eyes widened in shock.

“It’s the only way to keep him safe. It’s what happened last time, that’s why he ended up here.” Minho’s voice was low. “So he’d be safe. But now…”

“He’ll go back to Korea?” Han watched as Minho nodded. A lump formed in his throat. “For how long?” Minho’s silence gave Han his answer. Han cursed under his breath, falling into a chair and burying his face in his hands. “I don’t even know where to start.” Han whispered. “Finding one killer is easy. Finding a gang is harder. Particularly if, you know, they’re in some kind of international syndicate.” Han pressed his hands against his temples. “Tell me more about his father.” He watched as a shadow passed over Minho’s face. Minho lowered his head.

“Kwang-hoon.” Minho whispered, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “His name is Kwang-hoon.”

“I hate him.” Han muttered, clenching his hands into fists. He almost missed the way that Minho’s lips twitched into a half-smile.

“From what I understand, he started as a petty crook.” Minho began. “Then he became an assassin.” Han almost rolled his eyes until he saw Minho turn and fix him with a look. “It’s funny until you’re on the end of his knife.” Minho drawled.

“Fair point.” Han muttered.

“He killed countless officials, bankers, police officers, heirs. He was good at his job. Slowly, he built up an empire by killing powerful criminals. Then one day, I suppose…it just exploded.” Minho sighed deeply. “He killed the most powerful man in the criminal underworld. By then, everyone else knew to fear him, or they’d find themselves dead. So of course, he became the new King.” Minho laughed bitterly. “And that’s what he likes to be called.” Han felt his stomach begin to churn, thinking that someone like Kwang-hoon was related to someone like Chris. He couldn’t see his Inspector ever becoming someone so ruthless, and cold. “He had to fight to keep it, for a few years, but overtime he expanded his horizons. Soon he had half of Seoul under his thumb. Protection rackets, international drug smuggling, grand-scale money laundering, and the like. And then we get to today, where he runs the whole city and beyond.”

“Minho, you do realise I’m a Detective, right?” Minho smiled, but it was bitter.

“Do you really think we’d let you find anything? Besides, I could kill you, if I needed to.” Han swallowed hard. While it sounded like Minho was joking, his face was completely deadpan. “Being so close to Kwang-hoon means you get to do most of his dirty work.”

“Fair play.” Han shook his head. “I understand what you mean now when you said you’d never get done for murder.” Han inhaled shakily. He was a _Detective,_ for fuck’s sake. And yet, he was in the same room as a criminal. Most surprisingly of all, he didn’t hate it. He kind of liked Minho, to be honest. Minho was quick-thinking and sharp. From the glimpses of Minho’s true self, under the façade, Han had discovered that Minho was caring. He seemed like a pretty cool guy, when he wasn’t worried about Chris. Han could say the exact same thing about himself.

But still, it was almost laughable. A rat and a cop, in the same room, on the same side. He would never have thought his life would have come to this.

“Perhaps the most successful idea Kwang-hoon had was Operation Pythia.” Minho sighed. “He ran Seoul so well because he became all-seeing. He knew everything. He _saw_ everything. He had a big enough intelligence force to know who forgot to lock their doors, who left anything lying around, who left for work late or got home early.” The skin on the back of Han’s neck began to prickle. “But when they started over going after Chan, he knew nothing. It was insane how they’d managed to slip through so many cracks. He had cameras and eyes everywhere. Hidden microphones and cameras, spies – and yet he knew nothing about the murders.”

“Inside job.” Han muttered. Minho snapped his fingers.

“Exactly. That’s what we tried to figure out. That’s why Chan was moved here, in case the mole struck again. Kwang-hoon is too well-protected. With his history as an assassin, he knows how to keep himself safe. But everyone knows that the future of his empire rests with Chan. As I said, if Chan is gone, Kwang-hoon won’t have a legacy.” Minho sighed deeply. He looked troubled. Han didn’t need to be a genius to know that Chris had probably hated the idea of carrying on his father’s empire. “When Chan was moved here, Kwang-hoon set up Project Argus.”

“The one he kept from you.” Minho’s eyes darkened, but he nodded.

“Precisely. A new intelligence operation, but this time focused only on Chan, to ensure he was safe here. Both of my partners were on the taskforce. They were forbidden to tell me. I was always intended to be the leader of Project Argus, but of course…I had to earn my place with twelve years of loyalty first.” Minho clenched his jaw and sat down beside Han, cracking his knuckles again. “Han…I am truly sorry that you are a part of this now.” Minho’s voice was soft. He looked incredibly sad, and it kind of made Han want to give him a hug. Han resisted the urge to squeeze his shoulder, a gesture he offered Chris and Changbin when they were upset.

“Unfortunately, if Chris is involved, I’m always going to tag along.” At this, a small smile tugged at Minho’s lips. Han found himself running his eyes over Minho’s face. He would never have clued in on the fact that Minho belonged to a gang. Minho had soft, supple lips, that were too often pulled into a frown. Minho looked incredible when he smiled. Han gave himself a little shake. That was enough of _that_ train of thought for one day.

“How did the two of you meet? You seem…” Minho paused, biting down on his lip. “Close.” Han leaned back into his chair.

“Seven years ago, I was just a normal uniformed cop. A Police Constable.” Han began. Minho was giving Han his full attention, resting his chin in his hand. Han ignored the flush that he felt spread across his face. “Chris was a Sergeant then. He had been sent to scout out anyone he thought would make a good Detective. He was looking for senior officers, or at least officers with a good deal of experience.”

“But he picked you, I’m guessing?” Minho looked curious.

“Yeah. No one knew why.” Han laughed sheepishly. “Chris told me it was because I asked him so many questions and because I had good scores. I thought that experience would make a better Detective, though.” Han still found it hard to believe that out of everyone at his station, Chris had recommended him. “But he must have done a good job of convincing everyone to pick me, because I started my training that year.” Han couldn’t help but grin. “Then, after I finished training, I got partnered with him and Changbin.”

“That seems like a thing he would have done.” Minho was smiling again, but it was soft. “Seeing him like this…it makes me think that this is the person he would have been without Kwang-hoon’s influence. There are so many similarities, but he’s…he seems much happier.” Minho sighed deeply. “I’ve never seen him smile so much.” Han’s eyes widened. He’d never thought that Chris was overly happy, but he must have been absolutely miserable under Kwang-hoon’s thumb. “You seem like a good guy, Han.” Han started at this, eyes wide.

“Y-you too, Minho.” The pair lapsed into a comfortable silence. Han found his eyes kept getting drawn back to Minho’s face. He finally relented, allowing his gaze to skate over Minho’s face again. Han’s eyes travelled along the length of Minho’s jaw before skidding to a halt when he got to Minho’s chin. “Minho…the scars.” Han’s voice was very soft. Unconsciously, he reached out a hand towards the other man. Minho just looked at him for a moment, confused.

“Do you want to know how I got them?” Minho’s voice was low. He turned his head to the side, giving Han a clear view of the two scars running across his face. They were clean white lines, with no jagged edges. A knife wound, Han presumed. He brushed his fingers against Minho’s neck. Despite his touch being light, Minho still jumped. “From Kwang-hoon himself.” Han jerked his hand back, unable to stop the flicker of rage that lit in his chest. “For my insubordination.” There was that bitter smile again. Han’s stomach twisted with pity. Once again, he was filled with the overwhelming urge to make it better. To take away Minho’s pain.

“Minho –”

“You two look cosy.” Han’s head snapped towards the door. Chris and Changbin were making their way into the Inspector’s office. Changbin looked triumphant, and Chris was bursting with energy. Han gave Minho a quick smile, eyes widening in shock when Minho reciprocated it. He tore his gaze away from Minho, turning his attention back to Changbin.

“Her body is the letter.” Chris grinned, offering Han a picture. Han was met with the sight of Hale’s body. The odd position of her corpse was what had first struck Han, and seemingly for good reason. Someone had followed the line of body with a pen, forming a familiar letter.

“Clever.” Han whistled. “So they used her whole body to make it.”

“That’s not all. We found tons of transfers with different Korean banks. She also was almost constant contact with a Korean number. I can’t be sure yet, but it looks like she wasn’t only skimming money from her company here, but was money laundering. Could be related to Kwang-hoon.” Changbin’s eyes were filled with excitement. He’d caught the scent of his prey, and was ready to hunt it down. Minho’s eyes sparked with interest.

“ _And_ Changbin got us a lead on Tailor’s killer.” Chris had _that_ look on his face, and it made Han uneasy. He knew it all too well – the glint in his eyes, the tension around his jaw, the pure _hunger_ written on every line of his face. Chris wasn’t going to let this case go, even if it killed him. By the look on Minho’s face, Han was starting to wonder if it would.

Suddenly, Minho made a strangled noise, jumping to his feet. “Minho?” Instantly, his Inspector was by Minho’s side, cupping the younger man’s face. “What’s wrong?” Suddenly, his Inspector froze, dropping his hands from Minho’s face, his face full of confusion as he stared at his hands. Han wondered if it had been completely subconscious. Minho looked surprised, but a soft smile began to tug at his lips. 

“I need to go.” Minho muttered, the smile soon slipping off of his face. He dug in his pocket, pulling out a small radio. It was vibrating violently. “It’s Project Argus. It means my partners are nearby and need me.” Han watched as his Inspector’s face paled. “It doesn’t work outside of a twenty-kilometre radius.” Minho whispered. “It…it means they’re close.”

“But why would they be here?” Chris murmured, chewing on his bottom lip. Han just felt more confused. He’d assumed Minho had been sent by himself and was working alone.

“There’s _more_ of you?” Changbin growled, eyes narrowed in a glare. “Surely you should have disclosed this early?” Minho’s eyes flashed with anger.

“They were meant to stay in Korea.” Minho hissed, hands curling into fists. “They were meant to be _safe_ , not walking straight into this death trap.” Instead of firing back a sharp response, as Han was expecting, Changbin’s shoulders relaxed. Han realised with a shock that Changbin understood Minho. Changbin was fiercely protective over both him and Chris, and was able to understand the fear that Minho had for his own partners.

“We’ll come with you.” Changbin finally replied, his voice gruff.

“Of course.” Chris perked up at this, shooting Changbin a small smile. 

“It’s not safe –” Minho began, but Chris shook his head, reaching out to squeeze Minho’s shoulder.

“Let us be there for you.” Chris murmured, and Han could hear the unspoken words as clear as day. ‘ _Please, Minho, let me help you.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two times in one week? what is this madness??  
> i'm glad hyunsung finally made up and that minsung are playing nice. it's almost time for felix and jeongin to meet the rest of the gang, so get pumped for that!  
> i really really really hope you're enjoying this so far, and thank you so much for sticking with me.  
> get pumped for next week!   
> take care, and i'll see you next time.  
> \- c


	7. Expedite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Holy shit. Is that…is that Channie-hyung?”

_[To make a process be accomplished sooner.]_

_[“But I don’t know like a hidden camera._

_What I need is a 3rd eye.”]_

**Wednesday, afternoon**

3Racha ended up crammed together with a frantic Minho into Changbin’s tiny car. Minho swore every five seconds, each time prompting Han to turn around raise an eyebrow at him. After the fifth repetition of this new routine, Han caught Minho grabbing onto Chris’ hand. He watched as Chris’ gaze softened. The Inspector took Minho’s hand in both of his, rubbing soothing circles onto Minho’s wrist. Han felt something deep in his chest twist, but quickly shook it off. He didn’t have the time to be jealous. Minho was shaken.

And Han knew exactly how he must have been feeling. He knew if something happened to Chris and Changbin, he’d be even more of a wreck. Besides, he’d never imagined that Minho could come apart like this. Sure, Minho’s façade had cracked a few times, but it was usually out of anger or frustration. But the fact that he was like this, so on edge and shaking, breath catching over and over again in his throat – meant that he was genuinely distressed. Now that Han was appeased with the fact that Minho was at _least_ a decent person, he couldn’t help but feel concerned for the other man.

“Mind telling us what’s going on?” Even Changbin’s voice was absent of the distaste it usually seemed to hold whenever he addressed Minho. Han looked over to see that Changbin looked unnerved. The Sergeant was gripping the steering wheel tightly, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

“Unfortunately, I’ve…I’ve grown too fond of my partners. They’re both younger than me. They both don’t have any family, so I suppose…I sort of took on that role.” Minho clenched his jaw, anger flashing across his face. Han knew that the anger was self-inflicted. “They’re like my little brothers. I told them to stay in Korea, so I could be sure that they’d stay out of this.” Minho’s voice began to crack. “I knew they’d be fine if they watched from afar.” Minho exhaled shakily. “They _promised_ me they’d stay put.”

“Then why would they be here?” Chris murmured, eyes fixed on Minho’s face.

“Kwang-hoon must have sent them.” The look on Minho’s face told Han everything he needed to know. Minho had been shocked that two murders had already happened. Clearly, this must have startled Kwang-hoon as well. Han couldn’t help but wonder if this was Kwang-hoon sending… _incentive_ to Minho. Why else would he send two of his younger members, who coincidentally happened to be the two people that Minho desperately wanted to protect? There was no way it was a coincidence, not after all Minho had told Han about Kwang-hoon. It was definitely a way to tug on Minho’s leash, to remind him that he was still very much under Kwang-hoon’s control. It made Han’s skin crawl. “Stop here.” Minho told Changbin. The Sergeant just nodded, pulling over next to the curb.

“Hannie, get my sign out, will you?” At this, Han felt laughter bubble up in his throat. Changbin’s car was unmarked, so he’d get ticketed for parking on a yellow line. In retaliation for this supposed absurdity (“It’s the law.” Han constantly reminded them. “You don’t get privileges.” “Shut up, Hannie.”), Changbin and Chris had devised a ‘genius’ solution – their words not his. They’d gotten hold of a large piece of cardboard and written ‘official police business’ on it in large red letters.

To Han’s chagrin, it often worked. Still, he couldn’t help but smile as he propped the homemade sign onto the dashboard. Man, what he wouldn’t give to understand what went on inside his partners’ heads sometimes.

Most PCs around South London knew of 3Racha, and Changbin had made sure that the junior police constables knew _damn_ well not to give him a parking fine. It was said that a photo of Changbin’s car remained a permanent fixture in South London’s police stations. Han still didn’t really understand why Changbin had such a scary reputation. With his high-pitched giggle and bright smile, he was like a big teddy bear. Well, a really buff teddy bear. Han supposed that may it was his massive biceps that had something to do with the fear factor.

As soon as Changbin turned off the ignition, Minho was out the door, with Chris close behind him. Han slowly stepped out of the car, taking the time to survey the area. It was secluded. There were a few dilapidated houses and a boarded-up convenience store, but nothing else. There were no people ambling around, no children playing, no cops on patrol. Han felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle. They were being watched. Minho was looking around, eyes narrowed. Han watched as Chris murmured something in Minho’s ear. Minho smiled, but didn’t relax. Han looked over at Changbin.

“Bets on who’s gonna die first?” He forced a grin, trying to lighten the mood, but Changbin just rolled his eyes.

“It’s definitely going to be you, Hannie.” Han pouted at him, but Changbin just giggled and gave his shoulder a little shove.

“Minho _-_ hyung!” A deep, unfamiliar voice met Han’s ears, and he turned to see two young men emerging from the shadows of an alleyway. One of them was blonde, sporting a face full of freckles. He was beaming, and Han felt a little shell-shocked. The other had fading red hair, and had one thumb hooked into his belt, fingers dangling beside what Han really hoped wasn’t a real gun. They looked to be around his own age, if a little younger.

The blonde man was wearing all black, like Minho, while his friend was wearing a beige sweater. The blonde looked quite intimidating, with his broad shoulders and sharp jawline. When he caught Han staring at him, the gentle expression was wiped off of his face in an instant. He stared back at Han, crossing his arms over his chest. Han quickly tore his gaze away and looked over at the redhead, who was adorable. Han wanted to pinch his cheeks. He watched as Minho’s eyes lit up, a huge smile spreading across his face. The two strangers practically ran at him, throwing their arms around him. Han felt blinded. Seeing Minho’s smile was like seeing the sun appear from behind a cloud. He never thought he’d see such an expression on Minho’s face _ever._

“It’s Lee Know when we’re out.” Minho’s voice was rough as he clearly tried to choke back tears.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” The blonde shot back. “I’m just happy we found you, hyung _.”_

“Are you okay?” The redhead was clinging to Minho, eyes full of concern. “We were really worried about you!”

“The King said we had to come to keep an eye on you, that something had happened.” There was that deep voice again. Han watched as Minho’s smile melted away, and his jaw clenched.

“I was fine on my own, and both of you knew that.” Minho sounded stern, like he was chiding children. “There was no reason for you to come. It’s dangerous.”

“Danger is my middle name.” The blonde pushed his hair back and grinned. Han bit back a laugh. Now that Minho seemed to have relaxed, Han was confident that there was no danger. He glanced over at Chris, who was hanging back, eyes fixed on Minho. He looked perplexed. Han went back to observing the newcomers, crossing his arms over his chest. He shuffled a little closer to Changbin. The Sergeant was on edge. Han was glad to see that Changbin no longer looked hostile, and now just seemed a bit confused. He was watching the two strangers with the same intensity he had when looking at a case.

“Shut up, Yongbok.” Minho jabbed him playfully. The blonde pouted at him.

“Nice to finally meet you guys – Felix and Jeongin, right?” Han started in surprise at Chris’ voice. Huh. It seemed like Chris had already heard about the two. Han looked over at his Inspector, eyes narrowing when he saw that Chris was frowning as he stepped forwards. His Inspector’s shoulders were tensed, and in his eyes was a flicker of recognition. Han glanced back to the blonde man, whose eyes were now wide. He took a step closer to Chris, and Han froze.

“Holy shit.” The blonde’s eyes widened. “Is that…is that _Channie-hyung?_ ” Minho nodded slowly. Han watched as the blonde’s eyes became glossy, beginning to gleam with tears. “I can’t believe you’re here!” Han watched as guilt flashed across Chris’ face. He knew the Inspector was struggling to put the name to the face. “It’s me, Felix.” Chris smiled, but Han knew it was forced. He knew that his Inspector’s head was probably whirling again. He tried to inconspicuously shuffle closer to his Inspector.

“The amnesia.” Minho murmured. Felix’s face fell, and his shoulders slumped. He looked like a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry.” Felix murmured. “It’s just that we – we were friends. You always looked out for me.” Felix rubbed the back of his neck. “You were like my big brother.” Chris smiled kindly at Felix.

“I’ll continue to look out for you. You can count on me.” Chris told the younger man, giving him a warm smile. Han couldn’t help but smile. It was such a typical thing for Chris to say.

“I missed you, Channie.” Felix choked out, before shuffling over to Minho’s side. Minho wrapped his fingers around Felix’s wrist, swallowing roughly. Then Felix turned back to Chris. “C-can I still call you hyung?” Felix asked, clearly distressed. Chris’ brow creased again.

“It’s a Korean honorific.” Minho murmured. “If you’re a guy, you call older men ‘hyung’ if you’re close. You have to get permission first, though. That’s why Lix is asking.” At this, Chris’ face softened.

“Of course you can call me hyung, Felix.” Chris murmured. Felix’s eyes began shining again, as if someone had caught a handful of stars and had hung them in his eyes. “Same goes for you, Minho, if you want.” For some reason, Minho just smirked, as if he’d just heard a joke.

“You won’t know me.” That was the redhead – Jeongin, Han assumed. “I met Felix and Minho after you disappeared.” He was smiling politely, but was clearly uncomfortable. “I’m I.N. Minho and Felix call me Jeongin, though. You’re welcome to as well.”

“My name is Yongbok, but only my bosses call me that.” Felix gave the Detectives a toothy grin, having dashed the tears out of his eyes. “So I’d prefer if you stuck to Felix.”

“This is Detective Constable Han, and Detective Sergeant Seo.” Minho told his partners. Han ducked his head in greeting. “And yes, this is Channie-hyung _,_ but he’s an Inspector now.”

“Detective Inspector Christopher Smith.” Chris rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed.

“That’s too long.” Minho waved his hand in disgust.

“I didn’t know my name was Chan.” Chris shot back. “Mum just said my name was Christopher Smith, and I didn’t bother questioning it.” Minho clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“I much prefer Chan.”

“His name is Chris.” Han muttered under his breath.

“We could call him Crispy.” Felix tapped his chin, frowning in thought.

“Chris! It’s Chris!” The Inspector shot back hotly. Han nodded sagely.

“Inspector Bang does sound pretty cool, though.” Felix was musing. Han watched as the younger man then sighed, exchanging a glance with Jeongin. Jeongin was giving him one of those looks that Changbin often did, that _‘come on, we have work to do, get your head in the game.’_ When Felix stared back in stubborn silence, Jeongin gave an exasperated sigh.

“Detectives, and Lee Know-hyung – we do have a good reason for being here.” Jeongin murmured, nudging Felix’s shoulder. “We might be able to help you.” Han couldn’t help but stiffen, his eyes narrowing. He shot a glance at his partners. Chris had instantly lapsed back into work mode, and Changbin was standing up straight, eyes widening. “Your victims are Rupert Tailor, right? And Lara Hale?” Changbin swore under his breath at this, and Han added his own quiet _‘fuck’_.

They hadn’t released any information to the public yet. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since they’d discovered Hale’s body. It seemed like Project Argus really _was_ everywhere.

“Is there somewhere that we can talk?” Felix asked, beginning to shift from foot to foot. “You can never be too careful.” Han glanced over at his Inspector, who locked eyes with him.

“Hannie, call Inspector Park. Tell her to bring Kim and Hwang.” Han knew that look, knew that tone of voice. Chris had caught scent of his prey, and was ready to close in.

“On it.”

“Hyung,” Jeongin was looking over at Minho with wide eyes. “How big is the team on this case?”

“Aside from Inspector Park’s team.” Felix added, and Jeongin elbowed the blonde. Felix yelped.

“There’s one more Inspector helping out, but her team is handling some basics for us.” Chris told the pair. Felix relaxed, and Jeongin nodded slowly. “Speaking of which – Binnie, get me an update from Inspector Im’s team.”

“Of course.” Changbin had the same look as Chris did – once of utmost focus and determination. Han had long since figured out that Chris and Changbin were on two different sides of the same coin. Chris was trusting and reckless, while Changbin was more reserved and very logical. But when both of them got hooked on a case, they were impossible to stop. Han just sighed, knowing that he had his work cut out for him – but not for the case. He’d have to control his two older partners from getting too deep, too fast.

“Alright then. Let’s go.”

✧✧✧

In the end, they’d ended up cramming back into Changbin’s car. Felix had volunteered himself for the boot with an eagerness that had Chris a little unnerved. Minho had been happy to squish himself in between Chris and Jeongin in the backseat. Unconsciously, Chris had reached for Minho’s hand. Minho hadn’t even looked at him, and had just easily intertwined their fingers with a smile on his face as he’d continued to talk to Jeongin. It felt…easy. Familiar. Comforting. Chris had leaned against the window, listening to Jeongin and Minho lapse into a rapid-fire exchange in Korean.

The further they’d driven, the more antsy he’d felt. His brain was itching at how familiar the language sounded. It was like there was something on the tip of his tongue that was just evading him. He’d stayed relatively quiet as they made the trek from Changbin’s car to his apartment. They’d met Jihyo and her Constables in the car park.

Hyunjin had still looked a little shaken, and Chris had ruffled his hair, telling him that he was doing a great job. The way Hyunjin had relaxed had been worth the pained look that had taken up residence on Han’s face. Hyunjin didn’t seem like a bad kid. Now that the two Constables had called a truce, Chris had decided that he would take Hyunjin under his wing.

He’d exchanged a nod of greeting with Jihyo. She was ever the professional, her white blouse perfectly ironed. Not a hair on her head was out of place. But the frown on her face gave away how stressed she was. Chris knew that there was nothing he could do about it. Jihyo would deal with it on her grounds. She hated asking for help, and hated feeling indebted to others. She’d only ever really let Nayeon and Jeongyeon, two other Inspectors, get on her case about not doing everything by herself. Nayeon and Jeongyeon had been friends with Jihyo since the three had been teenagers. Sometimes Chris wondered what that sort of friendship was like – to meet someone when you were in the peak of your whirlwind emotions, when life was constantly changing. Then to watch them grow, to be next to them as they’d gone through adulthood.

He didn’t realise that he’d stopped walking until Han bumped into his elbow. He turned to look at his Constable, one eyebrow raised. Clearly, Han had been hovering at his elbow. Han narrowed in eyes, as if challenging Chris to act like he was fine. Chris didn’t have the heart to tell him that everything was okay. He couldn’t bring himself to fake a smile to Han yet again. By this point, he knew that his Constable would be able to see right through it.

With a sigh, he unlocked the door, praying that his apartment was tidy. He stepped into his apartment and looked around with a wince. It really wasn’t big enough for the nine of them. At least it was somewhat neat. Jihyo waited until everyone had filed into the living room before pulling him aside at the doorway.

“Chris, mind telling me who our new friends are?” As always, she was perfectly polite and hospitable, but Chris didn’t miss the glint in her eyes.

“Friends of Minho’s.” She began nibbling on her bottom lip.

“Minho Lee? The informant?” Jihyo pursed her lips, clearly trying not to give away disapproval.

“We need them.” Chris murmured, steadily holding her gaze. If he cracked under her scrutiny, she would refuse to trust him. But if he showed her that he was confident in having Felix and Jeongin involved, he knew that Jihyo respected him enough to work with them. “Trust me, you’ll want to know what they have to say.”

“I know you haven’t told me everything.” Jihyo murmured. “And I don’t expect you to. But I feel like I’m going in blind, Chris.”

“It’s…” Chris cast his gaze to the ceiling. “It’s convoluted, and I can’t really explain it all now, but my flashbacks – they’re related to these murders.” Jihyo’s eyes widened. “Minho knew me, before I had amnesia.” Jihyo’s jaw dropped.

“No way.” She hissed. She seemed excited and apprehensive in equal measure.

“I know.” He muttered back. “I know, it’s fucking crazy. And I – I might get to figure out who I was.” Jihyo’s expression softened, and she reached out to rub his shoulder. “But Minho – and his team – they’re of no threat to us. Legally or otherwise. They’ve been sent to track down the killer.”

“And you?” She was sharp. Too sharp. Chris hated it sometimes. He could never hide from her. “Chris, were they sent to find _you?”_

“I guess so.” Chris murmured. “But please, just hear them out. I trust your judgement. That’s why I wanted you here.” Jihyo paused, tapping her foot in thought. “I know that none of this really makes sense right now, but please, just trust me on this. _Please.”_ There was a pregnant pause. Jihyo began picking at the hem of her blouse, frowning.

“Can I tell Nayeon about this?” Chris hesitated at this, and Jihyo sighed. “I just thought – if Nayeon knows, then Sana would get to know. I know you trust Sana and I. And Nayeon…she’s…she’s good to have around.” A fond smile tugged at her lips, and Chris found himself wanting to jab her in the side and tease her about what appeared to be a crush. “Never mind, I just – I thought –”

Maybe another time.

“No, you’re right.” Chris sighed. “I keep wanting to keep this to myself, but I know I’ll manage to break a billion rules if I’m let loose by myself.” Jihyo gave him a warm smile at this, and shook her head.

“Okay, how about this? I hear them out. If I like what I hear, we keep them on the case with Minho. I tell Sana regardless, at least enough so that she won’t worry about you. You can decide whether we tell Nayeon.” Jihyo wagged her finger at him. “But you have to keep me updated on your involvement in this, Chris. I mean it.”

“Okay.” Chris held out his hand for her to shake. “Deal, Inspector Park.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Inspector.” She shot him a gummy smile, and the two turned and headed into the living room.

“I don’t like them.” Hyunjin was muttering to Han, hidden behind Seungmin. “One criminal was bad enough!”

“Don’t make me hit you.” Jeongin growled, but he looked like he was trying to force back a smile. Clearly, he was enjoying teasing Hyunjin.

“If you do, I’ll get you arrested.” Hyunjin hissed, and Jeongin began laughing.

“I’d like to see you try!”

“Shut it.” Hyunjin shot back. Seungmin just sighed and rolled his eyes. Han, meanwhile, looked like a stunned mullet, and Changbin and Minho were exchanging mutual looks of despair. Felix was hugging a pillow to his chest and was peering timidly at Hyunjin, his eyes wide.

“This is Inspector Park.” Changbin spat, before aiming a kick at Hyunjin’s head. Hyunjin had just tried to throw a pillow at him. “Show some respect to your elders, Hwang!”

“Watch it!” Hyunjin spat as he ducked, nimbly avoiding Changbin’s foot.

“Watch who you’re talking to, Constable!” Hyunjin wilted under Changbin’s gaze, shuffling closer to Seungmin.

“Hi there, Inspector.” Felix gave Jihyo a disarming smile, his eyes full of light. “I’m Felix, and this is Jeongin!” Chris watched as Jihyo’s lips twitched. Felix’s smile was infectious, it seemed.

“These are the two new brats that I’ve adopted.” She sighed, gesturing to Seungmin and Hyunjin. “Constable Hwang and Constable Kim.” She sounded exasperated, but was unable to hide the big grin spreading across her face.

“Call me Seungmin.” Chris watched curiously as Seungmin’s eye twitched as he spoke to Felix and Jeongin. He sounded stiff. It was a marked difference from his normally smooth and diplomatic tone, but Chris shrugged it off. Maybe Seungmin just felt awkward around informants, and wasn’t sure how to address them.

“Don’t call me anything.” Hyunjin muttered under his breath, and this time Han was the one aiming a kick at him. “Hey! Lay off!”

“Never.” Han retorted, gritting his teeth.

“Coffee!” Chris clapped his hands together. “I’ll make coffee.” And with that, he escaped to the kitchen, eager to avoid the bickering. He didn’t miss the glare Jihyo shot him. Clearly, she’d had enough of peace-keeping for the day. As seemed to be the new norm, Minho seemed to be intent on sticking to his side and followed him.

Chris felt his mouth go dry when Minho’s shoulder brushed against his. The closeness came so easily with Minho. Sure, he was physically affectionate with Changbin and Han. But it had taken years to not feel uncomfortable, and for it to not feel forced. His mother had always been distant, so touch was unfamiliar to him. Additionally, for the first few years after he’d woken up, too much closeness had always triggered something within him.

Either he’d emotionally shut down, or he’d start shaking. Sana and Jihyo had eventually wormed their way into his heart, and they would easily offer hugs and high-fives. BamBam had formed a habit of playing with his fingers. Over time, he’d found himself falling asleep on Sana’s shoulder, or tugging on Jihyo’s arm to get her attention. He’d found himself grabbing BamBam’s hands, pulling them to his chest.

He’d ended up becoming quite a cuddly person with his friends. By the time he’d been partnered with Changbin, he’d been the one to initiate their fist bumps. He’d easily sling an arm around Changbin’s shoulders as they looked at maps and case files together. Finally, when Han had become his Constable, it had taken him mere weeks to start ruffling Han’s hair, or to hug him whenever they parted ways.

But with Minho, it had been instant. The way they’d cuddled together, with Minho’s leg thrown over his body, had been…incredibly intimate. Then he’d woken up with Minho’s breath on his cheek, Minho’s hands tangled with his own – it hadn’t felt uncomfortable or forced.

It had felt… _good._

“Let’s hope they haven’t killed each other by the time we get back.” Minho murmured, breaking Chris out of his reverie. He ogled at the amount of coffee Minho was heaping into one of the mugs.

“Who the fuck is that for? I hate coffee.” Minho’s lip twitched at this.

“I know.” He murmured, a smile now spreading across his face. Chris would never tell Minho, but whenever the younger man smiled, his chest filled with warmth and he instantly felt a little bit lighter. “But you need it to stay awake anyway, you addict.”

“Leave me alone.” Chris gave his shoulder this little shove. Minho’s face softened, and he giggled.

He _giggled._

Chris committed the sound to memory, clinging to it as if it was a lifeline. _God,_ what a beautiful laugh. Minho smirked, then, as if he knew exactly why Chris looked so gobsmacked.

“It’s for Jeongin.” Minho replied, adding another spoonful.

“You sure he’ll be fine with all of that caffeine?” Chris raised his eyebrows, and Minho laughed.

“I think he stores it all in his legs.” Minho whispered back. “The kid can’t function without it. I left him alone for a week with Felix one time. When I came back, Felix had converted him.” Chris couldn’t help but laugh at the exasperation in Minho’s voice.

“They seem like good kids.”

“They are.” Minho’s voice was fond. “Felix missed you.”

“I don’t remember him.” Chris felt his heart sink as remembered the disappointment that had flashed across Felix’s face.

“We met him a couple years before you disappeared.”

“That explains it. I only really remember stuff from when I was quite young, unless it comes back in flashbacks or nightmares.”

“He followed us around like a puppy.” Minho began stirring Jeongin’s coffee, a wistful smile on his face. “I thought he was annoying. I kept trying to scare him off. Then every time I’d think I’d succeeded, he’d go crying to you and you’d coddle him.” Minho laughed softly. “Then I gave up and learned to tolerate him. After about a year I told him he could consider us friends.”

“Consider?” Chris laughed again. “That sounds so typical of you, Minho.” Minho gave his shoulder a small shove.

“After you disappeared…” Minho began nibbling on his lip. “Felix helped me. I owe him a lot. He visited me in the hospital. He made sure I was eating. He made sure I would get out of bed in the morning.” Chris whistled softly.

“I know you wanted them to stay in Korea, but…I’m really glad I got to meet them.” Minho nodded at this. Just as he was about to open his mouth to reply, there was a screech from the living room. Chris and Minho exchanged a glance and rolled their eyes in unison.

“I’m older than you! Therefore, I get couch rights!” That was Changbin’s voice. Chris and Minho walked into the living room, only to find utter chaos. Chris met Jihyo’s eyes and tried not to laugh. The other Inspector looked so incredibly _done._ She double-tapped the armchair and mouthed _‘I’m out.’_ Chris turned his attention to the younger men, who were currently arguing vehemently over who got to sit on the couch. Changbin had his arms crossed and was scowling at Felix, who was trying to sneak his foot onto the couch. “Try me.”

“Don’t test me.” Felix warned. To Chris’ utter shock, Changbin stuck his tongue out at the younger man.

“Oh yeah?” Changbin raised an eyebrow. “You have baby hands. I’d like to see you try.” Felix gave an exaggerated gasp.

“Oh dear.” Minho didn’t sound concerned in the slightest. “It was nice knowing you, Sergeant.” Felix grabbed a cushion and brought it down on the top of Changbin’s head. Chris winced as Changbin let out a high-pitched squeal, and Hyunjin started cackling with laughter. Chris turned to the Constable and simply blinked as he observed Hyunjin falling to the floor, clutching his sides. Seungmin, ever unbothered, was busy poking Jeongin’s dimples. The pair were making occasional, and very strange, bird noises. Meanwhile, Han was trying to sneak past Felix onto the couch, commando crawling on the floor. Chris was reconsidering his life choices. Was he dealing with _actual_ children?

“Jihyo, control your Constables.” But Jihyo simply smiled at him, seeming content to sit in the armchair and observe the ongoing chaos.

“No,” Jihyo shot back. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Changbin, do you surrender?” Felix had the cushion raised threateningly. Changbin was glaring at him.

“ _Never._ ”

“Guess I’ll have to eliminate you.”

“I taught him that one.” Minho told Chris with a smirk. Chris just shook his head and laughed.

“Alright, listen up!” Chris clapped his hands together. His guests turned to look at him. Seungmin paused, mid-poke, and Felix took the opportunity to give Changbin one more whack before he dropped the cushion, giving Chris an innocent smile. “As much as I appreciate the team-bonding exercise, we _do_ have a case to solve. Changbin, Felix, Hannie, you may all have the couch.” Felix and Han high-fived, and Changbin groaned. Seungmin made Chris’ decision for him, scampering over to perch on the armchair next to Jihyo. Felix patted his lap, and Jeongin padded over to him.

“Hyunjin can stay on the floor, he looks pretty comfortable.” Han piped up, and Hyunjin glared at him.

“ _Fine._ ” It was quite possibly the most dramatic sigh Chris had ever heard. “Pass me the cushion, Felix.” He yelped when Felix threw it at him.

“Should I assume that we’re all acquainted, now?” Chris asked. His team looked around at each other and nodded. “Excellent.” He handed Han a mug of coffee, and mimed throwing Changbin’s at him.

“Watch it.” Changbin muttered, but he couldn’t hide the amusement glittering in his eyes.

“We’re going to have an unofficial briefing. We found Hale’s body this morning. As per the autopsy report, Tailor was likely held prior to his death and may have been tortured – I’m getting Chaeyoung to take another look for me. He had a _G_ on his thigh.” Chris began. “Hale’s front door was unlocked. I found blood on her mattress – the bed had been remade and her body was in the living room. Her body was all twisted – Binnie and I believe it was meant to make an _S_ shape. Clearly there’s been a lot of premeditation and planning.”

“Did you find the murder weapon?” Seungmin piped up, and Changbin shook his head.

“No – we think it was a garotte, though. But Chris did find some evidence that she may have been skimming money. She was doing _something_ illegal.”

“We still haven’t found any dirt on Tailor.” Jihyo sighed. “So far he’s been by the book.” Chris watched as Felix sat up straighter, looking excited.

“Here’s where the case stands – at this stage, we’re considering Hale and Tailor’s deaths to be connected. One was marked with a letter, the other shaped like one. We only have one killer, and he’s not in custody.”

“Not yet.” That was Felix. He looked quite smug. Chris watched as Minho narrowed his eyes.

“Felix, what did you _do?”_ Minho rubbed his temples.

“Jeongin and me found him.” Felix blurted out. “We know where he’s hiding.” Chris’ eyes widened. “He’s underground.” Chris found himself nodding. So he’d been right. “We know everything that Lee Know-hyung does.” Felix added. “He reports to our taskforce, which includes Jeongin and me. So don’t worry about briefing us again – if Lee Know-hyung knows, we’ll know.”

“I’m not sure if that makes me feel any better.” Changbin muttered. “You already have your little hands in enough of our business.” He shot Minho a calculating look, but Minho ignored him.

“While all of you were out investigating Hale’s death, I _did_ find some dirt on Tailor.” Minho told them. Chris watched Minho with interest. “Tailor, despite living quite comfortably, was friends with some of the portside gang members. He was pushing, and quite a sizeable amount, too. Not just your typical back alley shit, either. Cocaine, oxycodone, heroin. The works.”

“But we did a background check on him.” Han looked confused, wringing his hands. “Nothing came up. We went through all reports from his tavern, Yellow Wood. There was _nothing!_ There’s no way we would’ve missed something like that.”

“Exactly. You didn’t miss anything. Nothing _would_ have come up – on the official records, that is.” Minho’s eyes flashed. “Good thing Tailor has a brother-in-law in CID.” Chris’ eyes widened in shock. He watched as Minho smirked. “Your very own Superintendent.” Chris swore under his breath. So that’s why the Superintendent had been so affected by Tailor’s death!

“He didn’t tell me.” Chris murmured, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“Precisely. If you went digging around a little more, and news of Tailor’s relations ever got out, who would everyone look at first?”

“His relative in the police force.” Changbin finished, running his hands through his hair. “And his reputation would be damaged.” The Sergeant groaned. “This is a fucking mess.”

“Wait a minute…” Han was nibbling on his bottom lip. “Didn’t you say Hale was skimming money?” The realisation hit Chris like a freight train.

“That’s it.” Minho looked like he’d been electrocuted. “Jeongin, Felix, I need you to get me every detail of the last twelve victims. Tell Kwang-hoon he can’t hide any criminal history from us. We need to know _everything._ ”

“You think Kwang-hoon knew that most of the victims were criminals, but hid it from you?” Han’s brows were creased together in confusion.

“To be honest, I don’t think we’ll find anything.” Jeongin’s voice was soft. “Most of them probably paid Kwang-hoon to completely erase all evidence of their crimes.” Jeongin’s lips were pursed together. “When Kwang-hoon gets rid of evidence, unless you were a witness, I don’t think anyone would be able to find anything. If you’re paying to make your crimes disappear, you don’t want any higher power with a super-computer to find it. And if Kwang-hoon is asked to make something disappear, he’ll do it properly.”

“He probably didn’t even remember who half of them were.” Felix laughed bitterly. “While they would have practically sold their souls to him to stay out of jail.” He rested his chin on Jeongin’s shoulder, frowning.

“It could be a coincidence.” Jihyo murmured, but Minho vehemently shook his head.

“We’ve always thought that there was a pattern. This is the first time we’ve found something concrete.”

“Were the letters always different, for each victim?” That was Hyunjin. Minho nodded.

“Mostly. There were always two _Gs_. But there was also an _S,_ an _L_ , a _W,_ and a _P._ ”

“Maybe it’s an acronym.” Hyunjin murmured. Seungmin snorted.

“The only combinations I can think of sound stupid, no matter which vowels you use.” Hyunjin stuck his tongue out at the other Constable.

“You’re stupid.” Hyunjin shot back.

“Hyunjin, please.” That was Jihyo. Seungmin gave Hyunjin a smirk from his perch next to the Inspector.

“Hyunjin, Seungmin – did you get anything from Roberts?” Hyunjin stopped his glaring contest with Seungmin and sat up straight, clearly eager to impress. “She said Lara was looking for another job and that she had been acting weird the past few days. Apparently, the night of the murder, they were meant to have their monthly movie night.” Changbin snickered at this, but Hyunjin was frowning. “They’ve been doing it for two years. Neither of them have missed one. Millie thought it was weird. But she didn’t go over to check, because she was annoyed at Lara for blowing her off.”

“She must have been pretty pissed.” Changbin mused. “My first instinct would be to check in.” Seungmin just shrugged at this.

“She was really worried when Hale didn’t turn up to work.” Seungmin continued. “So she went over to check. She found the door unlocked, and…and then she was the one who found Hale dead.” Seungmin hummed. “Hale didn’t have any family in the area. Neither did Tailor. I checked.”

“The witness in Tailor’s case didn’t add anything special. Him stumbling onto the attack was completely random.” Jihyo began. “But he said that he was surprised the killer didn’t run as soon as he saw he was being watched.”

“Was he going to attack the witness, maybe?” Felix was rubbing his chin in thought.

“Not their style.” Minho was shaking his head. “All of this…was deliberate.”

“It’s like they want to be caught.” Changbin muttered, frowning.

“It’s to send a message.” Chris murmured, his stomach churning. “They know they’re untouchable. They’re letting the world know that they can just throw evidence everywhere without getting caught.”

“It’s a game.” Minho muttered, his dark eyes stormy. “Leaving little letters, playing with the corpses, running circles around us – it’s a display of power.”

“No one’s more powerful than Kwang-hoon.” Jeongin’s voice wavered as he spoke, despite the false bravado. “We’ll catch him, Minho.”

“I hope so.” Minho looked up, meeting Chris’ eyes. He felt a chill run down his spine. “We have to.”

“Before I forget,” Jihyo muttered, digging into her pocket. She pulled out a plastic bag, tossing it onto the table. A chill ran down Chris’ spine as he saw a scrap of paper lying within it. “One of the SOCOs found it. That’s the only physical evidence they have so far, apart from all of the paperwork you found, Chris. No sign of the murder weapon or her sheets.”

“Is that…” Minho breathed, leaning forwards.

“Sure is. The letters this time are _I, S, T,_ and _E._ ”

“We already had _C, B, A,_ and _G._ ” Seungmin mused.

“There’s no _N._ ” Minho muttered under his breath, as if to himself.

“What do you mean?” Changbin shot back. “Do you know what they’re trying to spell?”

“Of course not.” Minho hissed. “I was just being presumptuous.”

“Where was it, Jihyo?” Chris murmured, rubbing his temples. What the fuck did this all mean?

“Under the mattress.” The other Inspector sighed. “Out of the way to not be obvious right off the bat, but also not impossible to find.”

“The same with the one near Tailor’s body.” Han muttered.

“Fucking psychopaths.” Hyunjin spat, and Chris couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll drink to that, Hyunjin.” Chris winced at the bitter taste of the coffee as he raised his mug and swallowed it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I ALMOST FORGOT TO UPDATE ON TIME I'M SO SORRY  
> currently i'm working on chapter 10, which is at about 15k words, and i'm so tempted to just yeet chapters 8 and 9 at you because i cannot handle rereading all of this build up anymore oh my god (also i'm now thinking i'll need more than 20 chapters to finish this so i may be dragging you along for a much longer ride)  
> will there be a surprise second update soon? probably, i'm dying here   
> i can't believe we're over a month into this fic, thank you so so much for reading, everyone!   
> once again, seeing your comments and kudos means the absolute world to me and keeps me going.  
> let me know if you're enjoying it so far!  
> i'm so excited for you guys to read chapter 8 and chapter 10 hahahaha i hope the next fortnight goes quickly (or that i cave in before a week to update)  
> ANYWAY thank you so much, see you next week!


	8. Prolepsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stop staring.”   
> “I wasn’t.”   
> “Do we need to have a talk about this later, or can you control yourself for an hour or two?”  
> “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

_[The representation of something existing before it does or did.]_

_[“In the darkness, just in the two of us is enough._

_In all these lies, if we’re together, even an endless maze is paradise.”]_

**Wednesday, night**

For the first time in – well, forever, really – Chris fell asleep easily. When Chris had started to put a blanket down on the couch, Minho had begun tugging on his sleeve. When Chris had turned to him, Minho had pointedly avoided his gaze, choosing to stare at his feet. Chris had noticed an almost imperceptible shuffling of his feet.

“Channie,” Minho murmured, expression unreadable. It was almost purposefully so – normally Chris was able to detect at least a little bit of what Minho was thinking. “Don’t sleep out here again.” He didn’t have the heart to tell Minho no. He smiled gently at the other man, reaching out to rub his shoulder. Chris felt his heart thud when he realised that once again, it was Minho who had taken the initiative to get them to share a bed. It was stupid. Minho was just looking out for him. It shouldn’t have made him feel so warm and giddy.

“Okay, Minho. Let’s go to bed.” Minho’s eyes widened, and two pink spots appeared high on his cheek bones. Minho spluttered for a moment before turning on his heel and borderline sprinted into Chris’ room. Chris followed after him with his hands buried in his pockets, chewing on his bottom lip. With a final glance at Minho, he flopped down onto his mattress. He rolled over onto his back, snatching up one of his pillows and holding it close to his chest. Minho remained staring at him, and Chris tilted his head in confusion. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great.” Minho squeaked. When he remained frozen, Chris grabbed his wrist and tugged him down onto the bed. Minho landed with an _‘umph’_ leaving his lungs. He shot Chris a mock glare, but was soon grinning. Chris looked at him for a moment, really _looked,_ and his heart skipped a beat. Minho was…ethereal.

“You sure?” Chris whispered. His voice caught in his throat as he locked eyes with Minho. The younger man’s warm brown eyes were glittering, enticing Chris to fall a little deeper into their dark depths. Chris wanted to smooth his fingers over Minho’s forehead, getting rid of the tension beginning to gather there.

“Yeah,” Minho breathed, his tongue trailing over his bottom lip. Chris felt something in his stomach twist. “Are you tired, Channie?” Chris hadn’t even realised that his head had begun to inch closer and closer to his chest until Minho gently shook his shoulder. “Come on,” Minho murmured. “You can rest now. You did so well today.” Chris nodded, leaning back against the pillows. Hs eyelids began drooping as he rolled over onto his side. With Minho’s back pressed to his, Chris felt his eyelids grow heavy, and easily relented to sleep. For once, he didn’t dream.

Then, he was rudely awakened by a shout. He was instantly wide awake, sitting bolt upright, eyes flying open. His hands had automatically curled into fists. He was ready to take down whatever the threat was. His heart began to pound, his breath catching, until –

 _“Channie-hyung.”_ The whimper tore him right out of his fight-or-flight response. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He reached out, his fingertips brushing over Minho’s shoulder. Chris shuffled closer to the younger man. His face fell when he saw that Minho’s eyes were screwed shut. Chris knew that look all too well. Minho was having a nightmare.

“Minho,” He whispered, gingerly reaching out to brush his fingers over Minho’s arm again. “Wake up.” Minho shuddered, and flinched away from his touch. He whimpered again, the sound tearing Chris’ heart to shreds. “Minho.” He tried again, voice catching. Minho’s breathing became shallow, coming in uneven pants. He knew he needed to wake Minho up, so edged closer, beginning to pull Minho closer to him. He froze as Minho’s eyes suddenly snapped open, boring into his own with no recognition. Before he could blink, Minho had flipped him onto his back and straddled him, teeth bared in a scowl. Minho scrabbled at his shirt, balling his hands into fists. “Minho, it’s me.” Chris was doing his best to remain calm. He knew by now that it was Minho’s own instincts kicking in. Responding in kind would only make the situation worse. “Chris – _Chan._ It’s your Chan. I’m here. Wake up, Minho. _”_ He watched as Minho blinked a few times, shaking his head to clear it.

“Channie-hyung?” His voice was still thick with sleep, and he started rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah.” Chris murmured. Just like that, Minho’s shoulders slumped, his whole body relaxing. “Hey there.” Chris smiled up at him, resisting the urge to reach up and cup Minho’s cheek.

“I’m sorry.” Minho whispered. “I must have had a nightmare, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Minho looked down at where his hands were fisted in Chris’ shirt, and inhaled sharply. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Minho’s eyes were wide now, and Chris shook his head. The Inspector gingerly brushed his fingers over Minho’s hand, and the younger man relaxed. Chris took this as a sign to continue, and trailed his hand up Minho’s arm. Minho inhaled deeply, slouching as all of the tension drained from his shoulders. Minho was smiling softly at him now. Chris realised in that moment that if angels ever did exist, they’d be jealous of how perfect Minho looked.

Then he was all too suddenly acutely aware of their positions. He shivered as he realised just how _close_ Minho was. Minho’s thighs were squeezing his hips, his handsome face hovering inches above his own, his soft hands now clinging onto Chris’ shoulders.

“It’s fine.” He winced at how breathless he sounded. _‘Nice one, Chris, he just had a goddamn nightmare and you’re thinking with your dick.’_

“Channie?” Minho was frowning now. Chris felt his breath catch in his throat as Minho leaned down towards him, eyes narrowing. For some reason, this felt so strangely familiar.

_“Min –”_

_“Channie-hyung,” His eyelids fluttered shut as their lips crashed into each other’s. He could feel Minho’s heartbeat drumming loud against his hand. Minho was so warm, so safe –_

His eyes widened in shock.

What in the fuck was that?

He couldn’t tell if it was a memory or his brain projecting his unspoken desire.

“Everything okay?” Minho murmured, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. It was almost as if he _knew_ what Chris was thinking. His brown eyes were huge and dark, and Chris wondered if he was just imagining the heat that were pooled in their depths.

“F-f-fine.” He squeaked, unsure if that had been the appropriate response. _‘Do that thing with yours lips again.’_ His treacherous brain supplied. His face flooded with heat, and so did his groin. His eyes widened in horror. _Fuck,_ what if Minho – what if Minho noticed that –

“You sure?” Minho looked wide awake now, and if Chris wasn’t completely delusional, Minho was _smirking_ at him.

“Mhmm.” He didn’t trust himself to open his mouth right now. Was smirking meant to be hot? Why did he like it so much when Minho smirked? Was it a kink? Oh fuck, did he have a kink for Minho’s smirks? What did that even mean? Was it curable?

“You seem to be doing an awful lot of thinking.” Minho’s voice lowered, and the sound travelled down his spine, making his toes tingle. “Care to share?”

“N-not particularly.” Minho leaned down further at his response, and their noses brushed.

“Maybe next time, hm?” Minho whispered. “Can I sleep with you tomorrow, too?” Chris wanted to _die._ It was too much. Minho’s low voice, still rough with sleep, his proximity, the way most of his body was pressed flush against his own, Minho’s breath ghosting over his lips – hell, just Minho _in general._

“Sure.” The response was gone from his mouth before Chris could clamp his lips shut. Minho chuckled at this.

“I’ll look forwards to it, then.” And just like that, Minho rolled off of him, flopping down next to him. Minho turned onto his side, eyes boring into Chris’ own. Chris cleared his throat and rolled over, unable to handle another second of the heat in Minho’s eyes. Minho just laughed before lapsing into silence.

✧✧✧

**Thursday, morning**

Chris had texted Han early that morning, telling him that they’d be having an informal meeting over breakfast. He’d shown up at the same time as Changbin, greeting him by bumping their shoulders together. Once again, it had been Minho who had opened the door. He looked surprisingly calm. Almost…approachable. His hair looked incredibly soft and fluffy, and Han’s hand twitched as he resisted the urge to run his hand through it. Chris had been in the kitchen when they’d arrived, and Han had been relieved to see that his Inspector looked like he’d managed to get some decent sleep. The bags under his eyes looked less pronounced, and he visibly perked up when he saw Han step through the door.

Felix and Jeongin had joined them shortly after, Felix greeting him with a huge, beaming smile. Jeongin had waved shyly at him, sticking close to Felix’s side. Apparently, they’d been staking out the apartment complex. They hadn’t said what for, and Han knew that it was because they had been told not to let Chris know the true nature of the sinister plot he was caught up in.

With a sigh, Han turned his attention back to his Inspector. Chris’ dark hair was still relatively straight, falling in soft waves over his forehead. His black shirt wasn’t buttoned up properly, revealing the sharp angles of his collarbones. Collarbones that Han had thought countless times about running his lips over. And somehow, despite the rips in his jeans and the wrinkles in his shirt, he was still disarming.

But something was off.

Han eyed Chris suspiciously. His Inspector’s leg was bouncing up and down, as if he was anxious about something, and he was pointedly avoiding Minho’s stare. Minho’s behaviour wasn’t surprising, he usually kept his eyes on Chris. But by this point, Han would have expected Chris to already be chatting away happily to the other man, eyes bright, a smile on his face. As per usual, Han couldn’t decipher Minho’s expression. Chris, on the other hand, didn’t look uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to be around Minho. He just seemed a flustered, unsettled, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Han glanced between the two older men, eyes narrowed. Something had _definitely_ happened. There was no other explanation for the odd behaviour.

Looks like he had some detective work to do.

He shoved another piece of toast into his mouth, eyes fixed on his Inspector. He winced when Changbin elbowed him. He shot a glare at the Sergeant, chewing quickly so that he could fire back with a retort.

“What was that for?!”

“It’s a Thursday. I hate Thursdays, so I’m taking it out on you.” Han’s eyes narrowed.

“Bullshit, you hate Tuesdays more!” He shot back, glowering at Changbin. Changbin then sighed. Han noticed that he checked to see if Minho or Chris were watching before he leaned in closer, whispering into Han’s ear.

“Stop staring.” Changbin leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. Han froze, feeling his cheeks flushing.

“I _wasn’t_.” He muttered, pointedly avoiding Changbin’s gaze.

“Do we need to have a talk about this later, or can you control yourself for an hour or two?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Han hissed.

“Sure, Hannie, keep telling yourself that.” Changbin snorted, leaning back against the couch.

“Shut up.” It was Han’s turn to elbow the Sergeant.

“Oi!”

“You started it!”

“Children, please.” Han turned his glare to Minho, who was now leaning back in his chair with his long legs sprawled haphazardly out in front of him. “It’s too early for a headache. Us adults would like to be pain-free until at least eight.” At this, Chris laughed. Han clenched his jaw. After that single comment, all of the tension had dissipated from his Inspector, who was now grinning at Minho. His dimples were on full display, his eyes scrunching up into half-moons.

His laugh was breathy, and Han watched with narrowed eyes as Chris raised a hand to cover his mouth, giggling into his hand. It seemed like Chris had forgotten that the rest of the world existed. His eyes widened for a moment, only for them to start sparkling as Minho smiled back. Chris leaned back against the couch, but his body was twisted towards Minho. Minho, meanwhile, was shifting closer and closer, until his shoulder was pressed flush against Chris’.

Soon the two older men were joined from ankle to shoulder, and Han stiffened as Minho’s forehead landed on Chris’ shoulder. Chris reached up to ruffle Minho’s hair, and Han resisted the urge to grind his teeth together. That was _their_ thing! He knew it was a childish thought. Chris was allowed to touch other people. But ruffling someone’s hair – usually Chris only reserved that for _him._ Han knew the acrid feeling beginning to brew in his chest. Jealousy wasn’t a gentle emotion, and it was beginning to eat away at Han’s concentration. He’d completely forgotten the reason they were all even there that morning. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, Minho lifted his head to whisper something in Chris’ ear, his lips brushing over Chris’ ear lobe. Chris shivered. Minho giggled.

Han was going to combust.

Just _what_ had gone down between the two? One moment Chris looked like he wanted to bury himself in a hole, the next the pair looked even closer than they had been yesterday. This time, Changbin kicked his ankle. Han turned his glower to Changbin, who just rolled his eyes.

“We’ll talk later.” The Sergeant hissed. Han glared at him.

“Some friend you are.” Han muttered under his breath. But Changbin just rolled his eyes, a wide grin spreading over his face. 

✧✧✧

“We found him, by the way.” Changbin jumped as though he’d been struck by lightning. He jerked his head over to Felix, his mouth hanging open. Felix just blinked at him, having just stuffed a whole bagel into his mouth.

“You _what?_ ” Han exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Wasn’t that hard.” That was Jeongin. He sounded as casual as Felix had – like a bombshell hadn’t just been dropped.

“But –”

“It was hard to find him _legally._ ” Minho told him, crossing his arms over his chest. “As I said, we’re part of Project Argus. We have eyes everywhere.”

“That’s why you weren’t that worried.” Han muttered under his breath. Changbin found himself nodding. Chris, oblivious, just sighed.

“I’m worried. I don’t want another death on our hands today.” The Inspector murmured, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Any idea on who Hale’s killer might be?” Jeongin shook his head.

“No, not yet. But soon, hopefully.”

“I mean, it only really took us a day to find Tailor’s killer.” Felix’s voice was muffled by the bagel.

“Swallow before you talk.” Minho chided. Changbin felt his lip twitch as he held back a laugh. His eyes flicked to Han. It reminded him of how he’d tell Han off for resting his elbows on the table when they ate together. Felix swallowed roughly and stuck his tongue out at Minho.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“We think they have a few lackeys, like Tailor’s killer.” Jeongin murmured. “They’ll send those out for the easy targets. But or Hale’s murder, they might’ve been a bit higher up in the ranks. Considering they knew about her money laundering for Kwang-hoon.” Changbin hated that he was being rendered speechless at every turn, but he had no idea how these _kids_ – well, they seemed like kids, anyway – had all of this figured out. Meanwhile, Changbin and his fellow Detectives were still grasping at straws. “Anyway,” Jeongin leaned back against Felix, crossing his arms over his chest. “As Felix said, we found him. He’s hiding in the drains.” So they hadn’t been staking out the apartment after all. Changbin watched as a self-satisfied smile passed over Chris’ face. Maybe that’s what Chris had been doing when he had met Minho – investigating the drains.

“Great minds think alike.” Chris told Jeongin, who grinned at him. Changbin just sighed. He’d barely seen the younger man smile at _all,_ and here he was, beaming openly at the Inspector.

If he was being honest, sometimes he was envious of Chris for how easily he got others to open up to him. Changbin had always had to fight for approval and recognition. He kept his cards close to his chest, rarely letting anyone in. He found it hard to just go around smiling at people, like Chris did. But that was because of his shitty childhood experiences – neglectful parents and near-constant torment from bullies had rendered Changbin wary and cold.

He didn’t trust people. Dealing with dead people was an escape for him. Chris and Han could talk to witnesses and deal with their superiors. Changbin could just lurk behind them, putting his brain to work. But every time he felt that stab of envy, he reminded himself of the crux of it all – Changbin _chose_ to work with corpses, following human lives and their ends.

But Chris could never escape the dead. They haunted him, even when he was awake. Yet he still chose to smile, to trust, to reach out to everyone around him. Often Changbin considered it stupid, thinking Chris naïve. But Changbin knew he did not have the courage or resolve to do the same.

He sat back, his envy melting away and morphing into silent admiration. Changbin didn’t believe in the supernatural, but sometimes he thought that fate was a real thing. He wasn’t a good enough of a person to have landed a partner like Chris. He hoped one day he’d be even half as good as Chris.

It was why he tolerated Minho. Han plain didn’t like Minho – he was jealous and possessive and suspicious. It turned him into a bratty kid, manifesting as scorn and annoyance. But he tolerated Minho. Changbin, meanwhile, was scared of Minho and what he represented. If it was up to Changbin alone, he wouldn’t go near Minho and his crew with a ten-foot pole. But he was someone who, in one way or another, was important to Chris. He owed the Inspector too much to keep Minho away, as much as he hated having to rely on Minho.

“We’ll go catch him.” Chris was grinning, and Changbin clenched his jaw. If there was one major flaw Chris had, it was that he constantly tried to throw himself in harm’s way.

“I’ll go with you.” Han’s reply was instantaneous. Minho’s eyes flashed.

“I will too.” Minho added.

“Fine.” Changbin finally growled. Someone had to be lawful good before chaos elapsed. “I’ll take Hyunjin with me, as we planned, and go and investigate Hale’s house again. See if we can find a note or anything.

“Jihyo is taking her Constables to see the pathologist. Doctor Chaeyoung Son.” Changbin added, glancing over at Felix and Jeongin. Changbin watched as Chris’ face hardened, his eyes beginning to gleam. He was in work mode, finally. It was what Changbin had been waiting for the past hour. “Jihyo said she’s been in contact with Nayeon as well. Apparently, Sana and Tzuyu have found some interesting stuff portside.”

“Good. Does that cover all our bases?” Chris shook his head.

“I was thinking about what Jeongin and Felix uncovered, about both Tailor and Hale.” Chris sighed. “It’s all well and good that _we_ know what’s going on, but we do need to start building a case. We need to get some evidence that we acquired _legally,_ or we won’t be able to hold any of them.”

“This guy won’t be getting out though, right?” Felix was staring at Chris. “He’ll be put away for life?” Felix’s eyes widened as Chris shook his head. Changbin exchanged a glance with the Inspector, his mouth twisting into a frown.

“I’m guessing they’ll go with an insanity plea.” Changbin muttered. “The more stuff we can pin on him, the better.”

“I was thinking of getting Brian in on it.” At this, Changbin couldn’t help but laugh.

“You mean Young K? He’ll smack you if he knows that you go around calling him behind his back.” Chris just smirked at him.

“I’m just waiting for the day he finds out.” Chris snickered. Changbin once again bit back a laugh after he glanced at Minho, who was watching their exchange with interest. It was if Minho was analysing a documentary, his head cocked to one side and brows creased together. “Felix, Jeongin, what will you do?”

“Project Argus.” Jeongin muttered, looking away. “We have some stuff to do for Kwang-hoon.” At this, Felix scowled, and it threw Changbin off guard. Felix always looked so angelic, with his soft hair and tiny smiles. But now he seemed pissed off, and it was extremely intimidating.

“Yeah.” Felix spat, crossing his arms over his chest and stubbornly glared at the floor. Minho sighed, shuffling over to him and beginning to pet his hair.

“Anything I can help with?”

“No, hyung, you have to stay with Channie – Chris.” Felix exchanged a glance with Minho, whose jaw clenched.

“I see.” Minho murmured, and Changbin froze. Chris seemed oblivious to what Felix was implying, but it definitely hadn’t gone over Changbin’s head. It seemed like another murder was likely in the wings, or that someone was already after Chris. Maybe the attackers had become bored of playing a game, and were ready to get to the main event. Bile crept up his throat as he stared at Minho. He wanted to be the one to protect Chris, like he always did. He wanted to tell Minho to fuck off, that 3Racha would go together to hunt down Tailor’s killer together.

But he couldn’t.

Changbin had accepted that he couldn’t win by himself. He couldn’t protect Chris like he normally did, no matter how hard he tried. This time, he needed help. Han wasn’t the answer. Han was already emotionally compromised when it came to the Inspector. Besides, he was someone that Changbin wanted to protect as well.

He didn’t like Minho. Minho was smug, dangerous, and unpredictable.

He didn’t trust Minho. The man was a criminal, for fuck’s sake!

But Minho was the only one who would be able to help him keep Chris safe.

Changbin scowled down at his hands, clenching them into fists.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Changbin cracked his neck as Chris stood up, Minho following suit. “I.N., Yongbok, report back to us if you find anything we can use.” Jeongin nodded, but Felix rolled his eyes.

“It’s _Felix._ ” The blonde whined. “Only people at work call me Yongbok.”

“I’m keeping things professional.” Changbin raised an eyebrow, unamused.

“How about you rein Hyunjin in, while you’re at it?” Chris grumbled, and Changbin smirked at this.

“Anything’s easier than keeping you out of trouble.” Chris smiled back, and he held out his fist. After a beat, Changbin bumped it with his own. Changbin couldn’t help but smile back before turning to his other partner. “Han, keep him under control, will you?” Han got to his feet and grinned at this, slinging an arm around Chris’ broad shoulders.

“You got it, Binnie.” Changbin’s gaze flicked between Minho and Chris, his face twisting into a scowl again. He watched as Minho bristled, and held his gaze. Good. Let Minho be uncomfortable. Hopefully then he’d realise that Changbin was not to messed with.

“Behave.” Changbin muttered, and Minho rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the Inspector. “Come on. We don’t have any time to waste.”

✧✧✧

“This way.” Felix was practically bouncing as he walked. Minho watched him with a fond smile. He would never tell Felix, but he’d missed the younger man. Minho glanced over at Jeongin, who was sticking close to his side. Jeongin had barely left more than an inch between them since they’d left Chan’s apartment. He was fiddling with his sweater, playing with his hair, and seemed lost in thought.

“You okay?” Minho murmured, just loud enough for Jeongin’s ears alone.

“Yeah. Just thinking, hyung. This seems…far too different.” Minho nodded, biting down on the inside of his cheek.

“They’re getting impatient.” Minho muttered, brows creasing together. “They’re still as slippery as always, but they –” He quickly glanced over his shoulder, satisfied once he saw that Chan was deep in conversation with Han. “– want him dead sooner rather than later.” Felix stopped, turning to face them.

“They’ve failed twice. Third time’s the charm, right?” Felix dug his hands into his pockets, frowning. “And we’re running out of time.”

“I’m aware.” Minho bit out through gritted teeth. “They’re done with dragging it out.”

“Seungmin said that so far we have _G, B, A,_ and _C_ from the initial note.” Felix mused. Minho’s lip curled.

“Honestly? They’re sending a message to him. I think I can already guess what they’re trying to spell.” Minho spat. “Bang Chan.”

“Hm?” Minho turned to see that he’d caught Chan’s attention. He shook his head, and Chan shrugged, flashing him a quick smile before turning back to Han. Minho hated having Chan so close to danger. He just wanted to wrap him up and protect him. Despite knowing that it was impossible, it didn’t stop Minho from dreaming.

“Yeah, but we already know they’re after him.” Jeongin murmured.

“He doesn’t.” Minho sighed, watching as his partners’ eyes widened in shock.

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Felix muttered. “ _Minho-hyung,_ he needs to know.” Felix was frowning now, clearly in disapproval.

“No, he doesn’t.” Felix’s gaze narrowed at his curt response.

“So all he knows is that he’s seen these murders before?” Minho nodded, and Felix sighed. “He’s probably going to be reckless, in that case. Minho, if he knows, he’ll be more cautious!”

“He won’t want to drop this case. If anything, he’ll just go after it more.” Minho ran a hand through his hair. “He wants to get his memories back. I can’t let that happen.”

“He’d remember us, though.” Felix exclaimed, a small smile gracing his features. Minho pressed a finger to his lips, and Felix ducked his head, sheepish. “He’d remember _you_. How you were before.” Minho pointedly ignored the lump that was forming in his throat. If Chan remembered, would his feelings return as well? As quickly as the treacherous thought appeared, he shoved it aside. He wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – put Chan through turmoil just to remember a relationship that hadn’t existed for the past thirteen years.

“He’d remember everything else, as well.” Jeongin, ever the voice of reason, murmured. He had always been the most empathetic of the trio. “Who knows what that would do to him?” Felix deflated at this.

“Exactly.” Minho sighed deeply, feeling his shoulders sag. “He’s going through it now, and that’s bad enough. Is it worth making him relive the other murders as well?”

“He might know something that we don’t.” Felix pressed on, exchanging a glance with Jeongin.

“No.” Minho crossed his arms over his chest. Jeongin pursed his lips in thought, but Felix clearly wasn’t willing to back down just yet. Felix jutted his chin out, his brown eyes full to the brim with desperation.

“But –”

“We aren’t going to reverse it.”

“He deserves to know!” Felix retorted, eyes burning.

“He _deserves_ to not relive the trauma. We are not going to tell him how deeply he is involved.” Minho snapped back, barely able to restrain the volume of his voice.

“Hyung!” Felix was pleading with him now, and Minho looked away. Minho hated knowing that the pain in Felix’s voice would be reflected on his face, and that Minho had been the one to put it there. “ _Minho,_ come on, _please,_ just listen –”

“That’s an order, Felix.” He hissed. Felix’s eyes widened at his words, and the younger boy stumbled backwards as if he’d been shoved. Minho had only pulled that card once before. They’d all been trained to fear the words. It meant that if they disobeyed, they would likely get punished. Minho would never harm Felix or Jeongin, but the words represented a consequence that all of them loathed. Felix turned away from Minho, sullen. Minho swallowed down an apology, knowing it would fall on deaf ears. Right now, Chan was his main concern. He had enough faith in how he’d trained Felix, and in his partner’s abilities, to know that Felix would be fine.

“Hey,” Minho’s head snapped to the side at the sound of Chan’s voice. Chan had jogged over to them, a look of intense concentration on his face. Han was hot on his heels, as always. “Everything okay?”

“Fine.” Minho bit out, avoiding Chan’s gaze.

“You sure?” At this, he chanced a glance at the Inspector. He took a deep breath, and immediately felt tension beginning to seep from his shoulders. He couldn’t believe that Chan still had this effect on him. He didn’t know how he hadn’t blown a blood vessel yet, in all the years that they’d been separated. Minho was angry and stubborn and short-tempered, and Chan…even the sound of his voice alone was soothing. Minho had felt the most at ease he had in years, despite how stressful the situation was. Being involved in yet another murder plot had to be enough to drive some people to insanity. But at long as Chan was here, Minho knew he’d be fine.

“Yes.” He was confident now. He gave Chan a smile, which was quickly returned.

“Good.” Chan reached out to grasp his shoulder, soothingly rubbing his thumb back and forth. “I was just thinking – we’re far easier to track this way.” Minho nodded at this. “We’re better off splitting up now, then reconvening later.” Chan continued, now almost vibrating with energy. “Felix and Jeongin can go, and then you could meet us there.” Chan glanced over at Han, grinning at him. “And I want Han.” Minho couldn’t help but narrow his eyes, shooting the Constable a quick glare. Chan seemed to be oblivious to the implications of what he’d just said. But it clearly hadn’t been wasted on Han.

The Constable had gone bright red, his eyes now huge. Minho couldn’t help but feel sorry for the younger man. If crumbs like this were thrown to him on a daily basis, it was no wonder he was so enamoured. Chan had been easy enough to fall for when he was surrounded by his emotional walls, acting cold and superior to push others away. He was probably accidentally seducing people left, right, and centre, with how open and warm he was now. Minho pitied Han, he really did. Just one glimpse of Chan’s smile was enough to send anyone falling head over heels.

“I’ll come with you.” Minho didn’t miss Han’s eye roll. Chan tilted his head to one side, confused.

“Shouldn’t you stick with Felix and Jeongin, or go alone?”

“No, they’ll be fine on their own. I need to be with you.” Minho smiled sweetly at Chan, not missing how Han started pouting. It was kind of cute. If Minho was being honest, he’d really only smiled so angelically to try and get a rise out of Han. Now that he knew that Han posed no threat, he could see the two of them becoming friends. At the very least, allies, bound to each other by their mutual desire to protect Chan.

“Sounds good to me.” Chan gifted him with a full-blown smile, leaving Minho a little starstruck. See? It was impossible not to feel something after seeing that smile. And those cursed dimples. Minho simply stared for a few moments, trying to ignore how his heartbeat had started racing. Fuck, he’d missed his Channie so much.

_“Do you think we’ll be friends forever?” Chan whispered into his ear, curling up into his side. They were lying on the rooftop of Minho’s apartment complex, stargazing. His breath tickled Minho’s neck, sending a tingle down his spine._

_“Yeah. Even more than forever.” He reached out, entangling his fingers with Chan._

_“That’s not a thing.” Chan giggled, a rare sound, squeezing his hand tight._

_“For you, it is.” Minho murmured, hoping that Chan wouldn’t hear him._

_“You’re always so sappy.” Chan rolled onto his back. Minho glanced over at him, his heart squeezing when he saw the huge grin on his friend’s face. Minho loved him so much. He didn’t know how he could contain his feelings sometimes. Chan meant everything to him. Not that Minho would ever tell him. Minho was happy like this. The warmth of Chan’s body next to his, the familiar, comfortable pressure of Chan’s grip, felt like paradise._

_“Have you seen yourself lately?” Minho shot back, pointing at their intertwined hands. Instead of letting go, Chan just gave his hand a squeeze and smirked._

_“Yeah, and I look pretty awesome.” Minho just rolled his eyes at this. “But for real, Minnie…” Chan’s voice cracked. “I want to stay with you forever.” Minho’s eyes widened. Chan’s gaze softened. Suddenly, he looked nervous. Minho’s heart rose into his throat, and he swallowed nervously. Chan rolled over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows. He was so close. Minho could kiss him, if he wanted to. And he did want to. He wanted to so badly. He watched as Chan’s tongue darted across his lips, and his breath hitched._

_“Channie-hyung, I –”_

_“Min –”_

“-ho, Minho, are you listening?” Han’s voice rudely brought him back to the present. Minho couldn’t help but scowl at him. That was one of his favourite memories with Chan, and Han had gone and interrupted it. The first time they’d kissed had been like magic. And Han’s voice most certainly was _not_.

Minho thought about Felix’s earlier words. Sometimes, he wished more than anything for Chan to remember how they’d been before. But Minho didn’t want him to experience anymore pain than he already had to. Besides, even a blind man could tell they still had chemistry. He knew he’d just have to be patient. Even if he did have a certain annoying Constable to compete with.

“Are you alright?” Chan murmured. Minho nodded, giving himself a little shake.

“Just thinking.”

“Careful, your brain may explode.” Han smirked at him, seeming pleased with yourself.

“I didn’t know you were even capable of thought, Constable Han.” Now it was Minho’s turn to leer, knowing he’d won the round. Han glared at him, pouting again.

“Cut it out, you two.” Chan chastised. Minho didn’t miss the twinkle in his eyes. “Jihyo and Seungmin are already on their way. I’ve yet to hear from Binnie and Hyunjin. Felix, Jeongin, are you guys good to go?” Minho watched as his partners nodded.

“I’ll send Minho your target’s location, so you’ll know where you’re going.” Felix told the Inspector, giving him a smile.

“We’ll find him.” Chan sounded confident, cracking his knuckles. “You can count on us.” Minho watched as Chan grinned, clapping a hand onto Felix’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Lix.” Minho, Jeongin, and Felix all froze, staring at each other. Minho felt his breath catch in his throat, and his heartbeat stuttered. It seemed like Chan was no stranger to giving out nicknames, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it came from another push from Chan’s subconscious. Minho glanced over at Felix, feeling a pang in his stomach as he saw how Felix’s eyes had become glassy with tears. Felix had also been distraught when Chan had disappeared. He’d often referred to Chan as his big brother.

Minho remembered the day when he’d walked out of a meeting with Kwang-Hoon, only to be faced with Felix, dressed all in black. The younger man had been desperately trying to fasten the clips on his weapon harness. Minho had started shaking as Felix had smiled sadly at him, a _‘sorry, hyung’_ tumbling from his lips as he told Minho that he’d signed a contract with Kwang-hoon. Minho had shoved past him, racing into the bathroom to shake and hyperventilate until he upheaved the contents of his stomach.

Letting Felix throw himself headfirst into Kwang-hoon’s grasp would forever remain one of Minho’s greatest regrets.

“All good.” Felix whispered, inhaling deeply. Felix offered Minho a smile, but it was forced. Minho clenched his jaw.

Sometimes he felt like Kwang-hoon wasn’t the only monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back   
> oh boy it's been a long ass week, i've been so busy with work i'm so sorry  
> i hope you've all been doing well! i hope you enjoy a little bit more of a minchan focus this chapter, and some more from changbin's perspective - he's so done with the three of them, i swear  
> ALSO - i can't bloody believe this has over 1k hits. i legitimately cannot. i actually had the idea for this plot about 3 years ago, and never got past tailor's murder. so the fact i'm now at like 50k words, and so many people have enjoyed this, and read it, and i have motivation for it - it's blown my mind. 
> 
> i'm not good at finishing things. i really struggle with it. and i know this isn't the most popular concept of fic out there. so once again, thank you so much for sticking with me, and reading and commenting and leaving kudos, it has meant so much to me. i appreciate each and every one of you with my whole entire soul. 
> 
> btw!! i also have some prologues i've written, from minho and han's perspectives. let me know if you'd like to see those at some point, or some side chapters from other characters perspectives/focussing more on other characters. 
> 
> BUT anyway i've rambled enough. take care, stay safe, stay hydrated, and i'll see you next time!  
> \- c


	9. Fervour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’ve shown your true colours, then. I can’t believe I was starting to tolerate you.”   
> “Chan, I’m so sorry. I would never have hurt you. I made a mistake –”

_[Intense and passionate feeling.]_

_[“Baby, listen up: don't be worried, trust me and run.”]_

**Thursday, afternoon**

_Drip._

Chris hardly dared to breathe. His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy. He barely even registered the horrible conditions of the sewer. It was dark, and smelled bad, but most importantly, was the perfect place to hide. All he had to do now was wait. He was so close to his prey that he could almost taste the eventual success. He was wearing a mask, which somewhat helped stifle the stench, while his dark hair was tucked away under a beanie. Han was a comforting presence at his side, occasionally brushing against his shoulder or reaching out to touch his arm.

_Drip._

Minho trailed ahead of them, listening intently to instructions being fed to him by Jeongin from his earpiece. Chris had yet to tell his superiors what they were up to. But what did it matter, really? If they caught their target, it was over with. It didn’t matter if he broke some rules along the way, as long as he was doing the right thing. He almost scoffed at this. Sometimes there was a difference between the right thing in the eyes of the law and what was right in terms of keeping the people of his city safe. 

_Drip._

“Stop there.” Minho murmured. “He’s close.” Han pressed closer to the Inspector’s side, and Minho slowly made his way back over to the two Detectives. He gently patted Chris’ shoulder, before standing behind him. He was tense, almost trembling with nervous energy. Chris felt his heart begin to pound in anticipation.

“Are you sure your partners sent us to the right place?” Han muttered darkly. Even in the darkness, Chris knew that Han was glaring. He was probably pouting as well, with his arms firmly crossed over his chest.

“Quiet, Hannie.” Chris murmured.

_Drip._

“I trained them myself, I _know_ that they’re right.” The sullen whisper came from Minho. whose back was now pressed to his own. Chris tried not to sigh. Maybe he shouldn’t have let these two both come with him. All they seemed to do was rile each other up. He thought they’d reached some sort of agreement yesterday, but it appeared that he was wrong. He was just about to chide them when he heard a _splash,_ barely a hundred metres away.

He felt Minho stiffen behind him. He pulled away from Minho and was about to creep forwards when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He froze. “Not yet.” That was Minho’s voice in his ear. Minho’s torso was pressed against his back, his breath warm on Chris’ cheek. The Inspector tried to ignore how his mouth had suddenly gone dry. He decided to blame it on the high-pressure situation they were in and the mask, as opposed to Minho’s proximity. Chris turned his head slowly, his cheek brushing Minho’s nose.

“Tell me when.” Chris whispered. There was another splash, closer this time. In the darkness, it was impossible to know how far away their prey was. He kept telling himself that the closeness between him and Minho was useful for communication, so they knew exactly what the plan was, but he just couldn’t escape how _intimate_ their positions felt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to someone, aside from Han. And of all the reasons in the world, it was for work.

Once again, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was how he’d worked with Minho in the past. So comfortable with each other that they _could_ be pressed against each other like this. So familiar that a small nod of the head or a slight jerk of the shoulder was as obvious as a spoken word. Then Minho squeezed his shoulder, dragging him abruptly from his thoughts.

It was as clear to him as if Minho had yelled in his ear.

_Go._

Chris sprang into action, flipping his torch on, baton in hand. The sudden burst of light revealed a dishevelled, middle-aged man, caked in mud and dried blood. He was frozen for a moment, a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, neither of them moved, observing each other with a mixture of fear and surprise. Then the world came crashing down around them. The man sprung forwards, whipping a butcher’s knife from his belt. Chris lunged forwards, powered by the desire to strike him down. He remembered Tailor’s corpse; the mangled state it had been left in.

 _‘You disgust me.’_ Chris thought, raising his baton to meet the knife before it carved its way through his flesh. _‘What gives you the right to take someone’s life, you scum?’_

“Chris!” That was Han. Chris froze for a moment.

“Stay there!” He yelled over his shoulder, before aiming a kick towards his opponent’s knees. Thankfully, it connected, but it only made the man stumble. Suddenly Chris saw the real challenge the murderer posed. He wasn’t especially fast or skilled with a blade, but he was tenacious, powered either by the carnal desire to protect himself or by some drug. Chris knew he couldn’t afford to get cut. He’d probably end up with sepsis – or worse, Minho would commit a murder under his watch.

Keeping his baton in front of his torso, he began dodging the swings aimed at him. The killer was growing increasingly desperate, clearly used to ambushes and not such a frontal confrontation. The man stopped for a moment to catch his breath, and that was when Chris struck out, sweeping the man off his feet. While this left his opponent dazed, Chris knew it wasn’t over just yet.

He went to grab for one of the man’s arms but tore his hand away when the knife was swung at him again, slicing through the fabric of his shirt. Chris ducked back and lost his balance. As he tried to find his footing, the killer leaped forwards again, managing to nick his arm. He winced. He reached for his baton, ready to smack it into the man’s wrist.

“Chris, be careful!” That was Han’s voice again. Chris turned to glance behind him, desperately trying to make out Han in the dim light. He hadn’t been hurt, had he? He felt a rush of fear travel down his spine.

“Hannie –” Blinding pain shot through his leg. “Fuck!” He spat, turning back to the target, who had just sunk his blade into his thigh. Chris knew that it had cut deep, and instinctively slapped his hand over the wound. Without thinking, he called out for the first name that sprung into his head. “Minho!” Clearly, Minho had already been moving, and had just been waiting on a cue. It only took him seconds to reach Chris’ side. As the target tugged his knife free from Chris’ thigh – which, by the way, fucking _hurt_ – Minho secured the man’s free hand, snagging his wrist and twisting it until he elicited a cry of pain from their target. 

“Get his legs when I take the knife off him.” Minho ordered, aiming a kick at the man’s knees. The killer let out a cry and stumbled. Minho sank his foot into the man’s gut, eyes blazing with heat.

“Minho, be careful!” The Inspector’s concern died in his throat when he saw that Minho already seemed to have everything under control. He now had one foot on one of the killer’s arms and was squeezing the knife-wielding wrist with all his might, twisting it back at an unnatural angle. Their target’s eyes were wide and filled with animalistic terror and _rage_. Chris shuddered, reflectively flinching back. He gasped as his leg began to throb. Minho glanced at him, eyes landing on where Chris was clutching his wound. Minho’s eyes narrowed, and he rounded back on their target.

“Drop it.” Minho snarled. Chris felt a chill run down his spine as he saw the venomous look on Minho’s face. His expression was twisted with hatred. “Fucking _drop it!_ ”

“Minho.” Chris murmured, kneeling down beside the target. The knife clattered to the ground, and instead of kicking it away, Minho picked it up. He pointed it at the killer’s face, his eyes dark and burning. “Minho!” But his call fell on deaf ears. “Jisungie,” Chris was desperate now, turning to his Constable. Han looked as shocked as he did at Minho’s changed demeanour. “Cuff him – not Minho, the target.” Knowing that Han could easily handle an unarmed target, Chris turned his attention to Minho. As soon as Han was by his side, Chris got to his feet, grabbing Minho’s shoulder. “Minho, stop.” Minho wrenched out of his grip, turning and brandishing the knife at him, his face still marred with the terrifying expression he’d given their prey.

Chris stared at him, feeling his heart stop as Minho took a step towards him, the torch light glinting off the blade’s surface. Chris glanced at Han. If anything was to happen – if Minho was to suddenly turn on him – he knew that he’d gladly throw himself in front of Minho if it meant Han could escape. He turned his focus back to Minho, all the dialogue he’d thought of suddenly leaving his mind. Then it was if a switch had been flicked inside Minho’s head. Minho’s eyes widened in horror, and he dropped the knife as if it had burned him.

“Chan –” Minho’s expression morphed into one of anguish. “Fuck, Channie, I’m – I’m so sorry, I didn’t –”

“You’ve shown your true colours, then.” Han’s voice was as cold as ice. “I can’t believe I was starting to tolerate you.” Chris turned to see his Constable rising to his feet, their criminal now in cuffs on the ground. All at once, all of Minho’s walls seemed to crumble. He looked terrified. Chris was suddenly reminded of the lanky boy he’d seen so often in his dreams and flashbacks. He wondered if this was a consequence of Kwang-hoon’s brutal training.

Chris was suddenly vividly reminded of how quickly Minho had been to attack Han. Chris went cold as he realised that he could have made a fatal mistake. He’d called out Minho’s name, desperate for help. How else _could_ Minho have reacted? He’d been trained to kill, and no doubt trained to protect Chris no matter the cost. That sort of mindset couldn’t just be turned on and off at will. And besides, Minho had been with him when he’d been attacked. That alone was enough to trigger a fight-or-flight response.

“Chan, I’m so sorry.” Minho sounded broken. “I would never have hurt you. I made a mistake –”

“While holding a knife.” Han spat out, stepping forwards and grabbing Chris’ arm. “Come on, Chris. We don’t need him to do _our_ job.” Han gave him a gentle tug, but Chris couldn’t pull his gaze away from Minho. He watched Minho reach up to brush the scars on his chin.

“Channie, I promise, I would never lay a finger on you.” Minho was pleading with him now. Minho’s voice was shaking, and Chris couldn’t ignore how that alone was like the knife had become buried in his heart, instead of discarded on the ground.

“Chris.” Han gave another pull on his arm. The Inspector inhaled deeply.

“We’ll discuss this later.” With that, he bent down and grabbed onto their target’s arms, pulling away from Han. “Up you get, champ.” He pulled the killer to his feet, receiving a glob of spit at his feet as thanks.

“Chan –” Chris just gave him a small smile and patted Minho’s shoulder.

“Later, Minho.” Seeing that he wasn’t mad, Minho seemed to relax slightly. Han, meanwhile, seemed to be fuming. Chris pulled his walkie out of his pocket. “Changbin, we got him. And I think we have one of the murder weapons. Over.” His walkie crackled to life almost immediately.

“Good going. He as scary as we thought? Over.” Chris eyed their new captive up and down. Without the knife, Chris almost pitied him. Yes, he was a murderer, and a cannibal, but Chris also knew that someone else had exploited him instead of getting him help.

“Not particularly. Anything on your end? Over.” He heard Changbin sigh.

“Other than the shit we found the other day, nothing. See you back at headquarters. Over.”

✧✧✧

Han was shaking. He could barely restrain his rage. He glanced at Chris, who was standing tall at the front of the briefing room. He wanted to punch something when he saw that the makeshift bandage they’d given the Inspector had already bled through. They hadn’t had time to change, instantly rushing back to the station to throw the killer into the cells. Instead of going to a doctor, or to the hospital, like Han and Changbin had begged him to do, Chris had decided to call in the rest of the team involved and give another debrief.

Han didn’t know who he was angrier with. At Chris, for getting himself hurt by throwing himself into harm’s way? At Minho, for threatening Chris with a knife? Or at himself, for letting both events happen? He supposed that the real answer was that all three were equally pissing him off. Thankfully, Minho had gone back to Chris’ apartment with Felix and Jeongin. Han didn’t know if he could handle seeing Minho’s stupidly pretty and _infuriating_ face right now.

“Breathe.” That was Changbin’s voice in his ear. He’d barely gotten time to tell Changbin what had happened. Changbin had seen blood on Chris and had instantly stiffened. Han had muttered a quick _‘he’ll live for now’_ before getting ushered into the briefing room by Jihyo. “Tell me after this.”

“Oh, I will.” Han bit out through gritted teeth. “I fucking will.”

“Tailor’s killer is in the cells.” Chris began. There was a whistle of approval from Hyunjin, and Chris grinned. _‘Don’t tempt me, Hyunjin.’_ Han thought, glaring at the other Constable. _‘I will punch you.’_ “With the evidence we already have, he’ll be in here until his trial, and then…well, forever, hopefully.”

“Good.” Sana spat out from where she was seated next to him. Han’s eyes widened in surprise. He’d never heard Sana’s sweet voice so cold. “I think this is one of the worst cases I’ve seen.” She continued, now frowning. “I’m glad you caught him.”

“Does he have a name?” That was Nayeon. She was seated next to Jihyo, her arm slung over the back of Jihyo’s chair.

“He said his name was Bloodstone.” Chris shrugged. “Of course, unlikely to be his real name. I’d assume they’d have code names.”

“It’s never that easy.” Nayeon sighed, folding her arms over her chest.

“There are two notes now – eight letters, all up.”

“Not including the ones related to the bodies.” Jihyo added. “The bodies have given us an _S_ and a _G.”_

“There still seems to be no connection between the letters that I can make out.” Seungmin sighed, leaning against Hyunjin’s shoulder.

“We have no news on Hale’s killer. However, judging by the two victims so far, we believe that all of the victims will have involvement in illegal practices.” Chris continued, eyes darkening. “Additionally, we’re dealing with a crime syndicate with a base in and large ties to South Korea. They clearly have international influence, however.”

“I’m guessing these crimes have been covered up in some way.” That was Tzuyu. She rarely spoke around people who weren’t her partners or Jihyo, so hearing her voice piqued Han’s interest. It was enough to even distract him from his anger for a moment. “Otherwise we would have picked it up straight away when doing background checks.”

“Exactly right.” Chris was nodding. Sana reached over and pinched Tzuyu’s cheek, cooing at her. Han couldn’t stop his lips from twitching into a traitorous smile.

“Well done, Tzuyu.” Nayeon murmured, barely able to contain her smile.

“Obviously, we can’t predict any victims with accuracy. Nayeon, I know you and your partners have been looking into illegal dealings with any Korean gangs. Any luck?”

“A few hits and misses. Mostly drugs and weapons, so nothing too crazy.” Nayeon hummed, biting the inside of her cheek. “I do have a couple that are on my radar. I’ll send them through to you after this.”

“Thank you.” Chris dipped his head in thanks.

“So far, there’s a couple of names that also have popped up a lot when communicating with the gangs.” Sana piped up. “They seemed to be codenames as well, but they may be tied to Bloodstone. I’ll ask our informants to throw their names around, see if anything comes up.”

“Good thinking.” Han watched as Chris rubbed his chin. “When we interrogate him, we can bring up their names.”

“We’ll do the first interrogation.” Jihyo’s voice was firm, meaning that it was non-negotiable.

“Jihyo –” She held up her palm to stop him.

“They’ve sedated him. By the time he’s coherent, it’ll be late. You’re injured. Go and sort it out, then come in early tomorrow to do the next one.”

“Jihyo –”

“She’s right.” Han blurted out, curling his hands into fists. “You’ll burn yourself out otherwise. Come on.”

“Dismissed.” That was Changbin, who had already risen to his feet. “Let’s get going.” Chris’ lips had drawn into a stiff, straight line, and Han knew that was gearing up to stubbornly dig his heels into the ground.

“I’ll send those names through.” Nayeon told the three, patting Chris’ shoulder. “I’ll send them through to Changbin, though.” She winked at the Sergeant. “I don’t trust you for a second, Chris.” Changbin laughed, and Chris couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“I’m not a baby.” He grumbled, and Changbin raised an eyebrow.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Changbin sighed.

“You _are_ a baby.” Han murmured, eyeing the bandage again. _‘My baby.’_

✧✧✧

As soon as Chris stepped through the door, Minho was at his side.

“Can we talk?” The other man whispered, wringing his hands.

“Of course, Minho.” Chris murmured, reaching out to pat Minho’s shoulder. Minho’s eyes immediately flew to his leg, and the younger man flinched as if he’d been struck. “I haven’t been to a doctor, and I don’t need to.”

“You need stitches.” Han’s voice was sharp from where he stood at the Inspector’s elbow. Chris turned to his Constable with a frown. “It’ll get infected.”

“If it does, _then_ I’ll go.”

“We’re going tomorrow, because I’m taking you.” Han shot back. His arms were crossed over his chest, and Chris knew that there was going to be no arguing.

“Alright, Hannie, alright.” He knew better than to try and change Han’s mind. He ruffled his Constable’s hair, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m sorry you have to take care of me.”

“I always do, and I always will, because you’re an idiot and I can’t leave you alone for two seconds.” Han muttered, but he was clearly trying to bite back a smile. With that, Chris slung an arm around Han’s shoulder, pulling him in for a hug. “Hey!” Han squeaked, his face muffled in Chris’ jacket. “I’m – I’m still really cross! I’m really mad at you!”

“Sorry, I’m suddenly deaf, can’t hear a thing. What was that, Hannie? You’re really happy?”

“Angry! I’m angry!” Han struggled in his arms, trying to get free.

“Okay, okay, I’ll let you go.” Chris let his arms drop to his side. Han didn’t move back straight away, instead deciding to look up at him with wide eyes. Chris swallowed roughly at their proximity. He felt his face and ears flush with heat and hoped that Han didn’t realise how much he was blushing.

“Fuck’s sake.” Changbin grumbled, pushing past them towards the living room. “I’d much rather deal with I.N. and Yongbok than you three.”

“Felix!” Came a distant shout. “It’s Felix!” Changbin laughed under his breath, and Chris was amazed to see that Changbin was _smiling._ It seemed that Felix’s persistent smile had even managed to break down some of Changbin’s defences. Then Chris’ eyes fell on Minho. The younger man was watching him and Han with a deliberately neutral expression, but his eyes were burning. He looked mad, although Chris couldn’t understand why. Maybe it was just residual anger at Bloodstone, for wounding him.

“Hannie,” Chris began, taking a step back. “Mind making some coffee?” Han nodded.

“Can I get you anything?” Han murmured, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“Just some painkillers, Hannie. Maybe a bandage or something. You know where the first aid kit is, right? In the kitchen.”

“On it.” With that, his Constable scampered off.

“Come on, Minho.” Chris whispered, grabbing the younger man’s wrist and pulling him along. He took a quick glance at the living room, satisfied to find that Changbin was already deep in conversation with Felix and Jeongin. He tugged Minho into his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind them. Minho lingered by the closed door as Chris went and leaned against the wall. “What’s up?” Minho was staring at his feet, fiddling with his fingers.

“Are you okay?” Minho whispered, and his voice cracked.

“Of course I am.” Chris grinned. “It’ll take more than a little knife to take me down.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Minho hissed. “I…I don’t know how much more you’ll throw yourself into.”

“I _have_ trained for these sorts of scenarios, Minho. I’m not entirely useless.”

“But you were better trained in combat last time, and look what happened.” Minho curled his hands into fists.

“I’ll be okay, trust me. Plus, I know I have you there to protect me.” At this, Minho seemed to crumble.

“I’d never hurt you.” Minho took a step closer, his voice thickening with emotion. “Please believe me. It was a mistake. I just – I thought I could control myself. But when I see anyone who I think might be a threat to you, I just lose my head.” Minho buried his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.” Minho whispered. “I just – I don’t know what comes over me. I just get thrown right back to the day you went missing. I feel like a scared little kid, and I keep thinking that you’re just going to disappear all over again and this time I’m never going to get you back and –”

“Minho,” Chris kept his tone gentle, fighting the urge to surge forwards and wrap the other man in his arms. “I figured that out pretty quick. I know you were doing your job. I was the one who didn’t think about the consequences. He posed a threat to me, and he had a knife. I should’ve anticipated it. I should’ve called for Han.” Minho’s hands dropped. “He’s my partner.”

“You wanted to keep him out of it. I do that with Felix and Jeongin. I get it.” Minho murmured. “I’m sorry, Chan –”

“Please stop apologising. Please.” Chris reached out and placed a hand on Minho’s shoulder. “We’ll work together to make sure it doesn’t happen again, alright? Even if it takes time. I’m not going to hate you for something like this.” He gave Minho’s shoulder a squeeze. Minho’s face softened, and he gave Chris a small, tentative smile. “Just don’t keep beating yourself up. We have far bigger things to worry about.”

“I’m just so worried about you.” Minho breathed, his voice shaking. “I don’t want you to be taken from me again.” Chris smiled at this, beginning to rub circles onto Minho’s collarbone with his thumb.

“I won’t be. It’s happened before, but that doesn’t mean it has anything to do with me. The only reason I know about it this time is because I’m a Detective. Last time I probably knew about it because of my father.” Minho opened his mouth to speak, but quickly exhaled and shut it with a _click_. “I’ll be fine, Minho, trust me. We just need to solve this.”

“You don’t understand.” Minho’s voice was strangled. He took another step towards Chris, his expression unreadable. “I have to protect you.”

“I feel safe when I’m with you, Minho.” Chris murmured, feeling his chest fill with warmth. “I know you’ll keep me from harm.” Minho’s shoulders sagged, hopefully with relief. Chris continued rubbing circles onto Minho’s warm skin with his thumb, trying to soothe Minho’s clearly racing thoughts.

“I’d do anything to keep you safe.” Minho murmured, leaning closer towards him. Suddenly Chris became pointedly aware of their proximity. Minho was so close. If Chris moved another millimetre, they’d be bumping noses. “Even after so long, I still feel the same.” Chris swallowed nervously, becoming lost in the endless depths of Minho’s eyes.

“Minho.” He murmured. Minho’s breath hitched.

“Chan.” Minho sighed in response, his warm breath ghosting over Chan’s lips. The tension between them was as thick as treacle. There was a strange energy thrumming through the air around them. Chris was vividly reminded of their time in the sewer – Minho’s breath against his ear, his nose against Minho’s cheek, his back to Minho’s front. All of a sudden, he found himself craving that closeness again.

Chris watched as Minho’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Now it was Chris’ turn for his breath to catch. Minho, only a little bit taller than him, had his head angled down towards him. If he moved even slightly, Chris had no doubt that their lips would meet. Did he want it to happen? Or was it just circumstance that had him drawn to that scenario? He couldn’t bring himself to turn his face away. With a shock, he realised that he didn’t _want_ to slip away from Minho.

“Minho,” a note of pleading entering his voice, unbidden. Chris tilted his chin up slightly, ever so slowly, moving ever closer to the realm of no return. A strangled noise left Minho’s throat. Chris felt like he was on fire. Minho shifted slightly and within moments, their bodies were pressed flush against each other’s. Minho was leaning on his hand, which he’d placed ever-so conveniently next to Chris’ head. Chris barely dared to breathe, lest he broke the bubble surrounding them. His breath stuttered as his treacherous heart began to thud. It was so loud in his ears that he wondered if Minho could hear it.

“Chris!” That was Han’s voice. Minho’s eyes widened, and he went to pull away. Before he could second-guess himself, Chris grabbed his wrist.

“Not yet.” He breathed. “Just a little longer.” He hated how desperate he sounded. But now that he had Minho so close, he craved more, and _more_.

“Channie –” Minho sounded pained. “Do you really want your Constable finding us like this?” He smiled like he was joking, but his eyes were searching the Inspector’s, full of questions. For a moment, Chris just wanted to yell fuck it, and kiss Minho before he could change his mind. He was faced with a dilemma now, a rigid dichotomy that made his heart ache. His desire, or his duty. Satisfaction, or sensibility. But for the first time he could remember, Chris found himself wanting to barely consider his responsibilities. Minho’s presence was _intoxicating._ He couldn’t back out now.

“ _Please._ ” He wasn’t quite sure what he was asking for. Did he just want to stay like this, revelling in their closeness but within the safe realm of friendship? Or did he _want_ Minho to kiss him? Minho groaned at his plea, his head landing on Chris’ shoulder.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” Minho murmured, voice muffled in his shirt.

“I’m an adult, Minho. I know what I’m asking for.” Chris heard Minho suck in a sharp breath.

“I know you are.” Minho pulled back and reached up, his hand gently cupping Chris’ cheek. Chris leaned into the touch almost reflexively. Minho bit his lip and sighed deeply, his eyes drifting back to Chris’. His eyes almost seemed to have darkened. “But if I start, Channie, I won’t want to stop.” There was silence. “Not after so long without you.” Chris didn’t care. He’d gone past that point.

“Chris, where the _fuck_ are you?” It was Han’s voice again. It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. Minho glanced towards the door.

“He’ll have my head if you’re gone for any longer.” Minho stroked his cheek with his thumb and sighed. Minho stepped back, just in time for the door to be flung open. Minho’s hand dropped to his side, but the feeling of his fingers on Chris’ cheek still lingered.

“Chris – oh, it’s you.” Nothing could hide how disgruntled Han was to see Minho. The Constable’s eyes narrowed as his gaze flicked between the two men, who were still standing quite close. Minho cleared his throat and took another step back. Chris felt a pang in his stomach at the sudden loss of proximity, but swallowed it down. He shot Han a smile, but his Constable still seemed suspicious. “I think there’s going to be a riot if we don’t feed Binnie soon.”

“I’ll get on it.” He mumbled, avoiding Han’s stare. As Han nodded, turning sharply on his heel, Chris felt embarrassed by the way his eyes immediately flicked back to Minho. How was he meant to last another second alone with Minho before doing something he might regret? _‘You didn’t seem to feel too bad about it when you almost kissed him.’_ His inner voice whispered.

“Come _on_ , Chris. I’ll help you make dinner.” Han had ducked his head back into the door. Chris opened his mouth to protest, biting back a laugh when he saw that Minho had gone to do the same. “I don’t trust Minho to not burn the place down.” Chris snorted at this as he watched Minho roll his eyes.

He trudged after Han with Minho hot on his heels. He wished he felt relieved. He’d _expected_ himself to feel relieved. But all he registered was disappointment. Still – he was safe. He hadn’t crossed the line with Minho yet. He resisted the urge to sneak a glance at Minho over his shoulder. Was Minho looking at him? Would Minho _want_ Chris to look at him? Han tugged on his sleeve, catching him just as Chris began to turn his head. Chris roughly cleared his throat. He caught Changbin’s eye, and flushed. Changbin was glancing between Minho and the Inspector with narrowed eyes, and Chris knew that Changbin clearly suspected that something had happened. Chris coughed into his fist, trying to avoid the urge to stare at the floor.

“Who’s hungry?” He glanced around the living room, not missing the way that Felix had perked up at the news of food. “Han, still wanna cook together?” This seemed to brighten up his Constable’s mood considerably.

“Of course!” Han’s grip on his sleeve tightened.

“Alright, that’s settled. M-M-Minho,” Chris internally cursed himself for stammering. “C-can I trust you to babysit?” He tried to look anywhere else but Minho’s face, but didn’t succeed. Their eyes locked, and Chris felt his face flush with heat. He knew his ears were probably already bright red. Minho had clearly noticed and was trying to conceal a smirk. Chris cleared his throat, turning towards the kitchen. “Dinner. Yes. Hm. Right. Come on, Hannie.” He tried not to run out of the room, the memory of Minho’s face a hairsbreadth from his own still fresh in his mind. Chris opened the fridge, sighing. Feeding the six of them would leave his fridge and cupboards bare. He’d have to venture out to the shops tomorrow. “I reckon we can manage something.” He began emptying his fridge, passing various ingredients to Han.

“Can I change your bandage, at least?” Han murmured, and Chris glanced down at his leg with a shrug.

“After dinner.” Chris sighed.

“Okay. I’ll hold you to it.” Han lapsed into silence for a moment, but it was heavy.

“Spit it out, Hannie.” His Constable flushed at this, looking away.

“What were you and Minho talking about before?” Chris froze, turning to find his Constable pointedly ignoring his gaze. “You seemed pretty…close.” Chris’ eyes widened. Shit, had Han seen how close they had gotten?

“We – we were just –” He tripped over his words, mind desperately scrambling for an excuse. “Y-you know, the case, and all that.”

“If you get your memories back, do you think you’ll go back to Korea with – with Minho?” Han blurted out, finally meeting his eyes. Chris winced at how bitter Han sounded. Chris sighed at this, half from relief, half in dismay at the new problem that had arisen. It had only been a few days at most, and he’d clicked with Minho so quickly. He couldn’t blame his Constable for feeling a bit insecure, especially after they’d been so close for five years.

“Of course not. I don’t take holidays, remember?” He reached out and ruffled Han’s hair. “I’m not gonna up and leave you and Binnie. We’re a team.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?” Han’s reply was quick, as if he’d spoken without thinking. His Constable’s eyes widened, and he bit down on his lip. “I didn’t mean that.” Chris sighed at this. His hand lingered on Han’s head. Slowly he began to pet Han’s hair, pursing his lips in thought.

“You’ve already gotten hurt once because of me this week. I wasn’t going to call you into a knife fight, Hannie.”

“Then why’d you want Minho involved? Because you think he’s more capable than me? _I’m_ your partner, not him.” Han was pouting now. Chris let his hand drop from Han’s hair. Humming in thought, he let it rest on his Constable’s hip. It was beginning to dawn on him why Han was upset.

“Are you jealous, Jisungie?” He couldn’t help but grin as Han flushed bright red and looked away. “Don’t worry,” Chris cooed, pinching Han’s cheek. “You’re _my_ Constable, remember?” Han seemed to be sated by this answer, shooting him a quick look before his lips twitched into a smile.

“Yeah, yeah. If you pull that card all the time, it’s gonna stop working.” Han grumbled. Chris slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Here I was thinking _I_ was the grumpy old man.” Chris teased, ruffling Han’s hair again. “Come on, grandpa, let’s get dinner sorted before they start a riot.”

As the two worked side by side, swapping jokes and sharing memories, Chris was reminded of how strongly he felt for Han. Thinking back on how he wanted to kiss Minho no longer felt exciting, but guilt-inducing.

He knew that he was inexplicably drawn to Minho. It was like Minho was the moon, the strength of his gravity pulling Chris into his orbit with no escape. Minho was an enigma. But Han…Han was familiar. Han was comforting. Han was _home._ Minho came from his past, a world that Chris had long since been removed from.

Just like that, he realised how much of a predicament he was in. It seemed it wasn’t just the case he had on his hands, but his feelings as well. Chris chanced a glance at his Constable, who was humming to himself as he pottered by the stove. He’d had crushes before, sure. He wasn’t twelve. He’d had a thing for BamBam, he’d had flings, and short-term relationships – but nothing that had ever stuck.

Chris was suddenly reminded of how happy he was to open his door in the morning to see Han grinning at him. How grateful he was for Han’s company in the evenings, whenever they had dinner together. How he always smiled when he ruffled Han’s hair. How Han’s eyes lit up whenever Chris grinned at him or gave him praise. How –

How much he _liked_ –

No. He couldn’t go there. That would just ruin everything.

Maybe when this was all over, he’d have to find himself a distraction. He couldn’t do a relationship. He barely opened up to his closest friends, showing vulnerability to a stranger would be absolute _torture._ The last time he’d been interested in a relationship was around the time when Han had been assigned to him. Since then, he’d never really felt the need to look for someone to spend his time with. Work kept him busy enough, and in his spare time he usually…he usually _hung out with Han._

They travelled to and from work together every weekday. He usually ate dinner with Han, whether it was from their favourite chippie down the road, or something Han would throw together for him. If Chris was bored on the weekend, he’d usually end up just showing up at Han’s unannounced. He always armed himself with snacks and a bottle of soju or a pack of beer in way of an apology, but Han never seemed to mind. And when Chris decided to implement some self-restraint and not hang out with Han on the weekends, his Constable would always be notably more sullen on Monday.

Han’s house was like his second home. He knew where Han kept his spare key. Han’s couch was his second bed. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d curled up onto the rickety old thing, wondering if Han would hate it if Chris bought him a new one. He couldn’t count the number of times Han’s laughter stole his breath away – whether it was over coffee, at their favourite café, or after a silly argument about whether they would watch _Your Name_ or _Howl’s Moving Castle_ first on one of their movie marathons.

Chris had always just thought that his life revolved around work. That his work _was_ his life. That he didn’t exist without it. But when he thought about Han, he realised that maybe he was more than his career after all. That maybe he was a decent human being. That maybe he was worthy of friendship and – and _love._

The realisation hit him like a bag of bricks.

“Fuck!” He slapped a hand to his forehead, raking his fingers through his hair.

He was such an idiot.

“Chris?” Han was watching him, bemused.

God, how had he been so _dense?_

He loved Changbin. Loved working with him, spending time with him, joking with him. He would die for Changbin. He would gladly starve if it meant that Changbin would live for a moment longer. Changbin understood him. He was able to read the Sergeant like a book. Changbin had been there through some of his lowest moments.

But _Han –_ Han was his greatest weakness.

Han had been full of wonder and excitement and raw talent and potential when Chris had first met him. Chris had smiled at him, finding him rather cute. But his looks had fallen to the wayside as soon as he’d opened his mouth. Chris had found himself enraptured, and utterly captivated. Finally, it was like someone other than Changbin understood him. He’d told Han that they’d seen Chris’ report and had instantly wanted him on the team.

But it hadn’t been entirely true. He’d walked into the meeting with his bosses, pulled out Han’s profile, and slammed it onto the desk in front of the Superintendent. They’d been impressed by Han’s scores, but hadn’t been convinced that he was ready for CID just yet. But Chris had held firm, and had stared directly into the Superintendent’s eyes. It had been non-negotiable.

 _‘Him.’_ _Chris murmured, voice steady and low._ _‘I want him.’_

Waiting for Han to finish training had been annoying. He’d wanted Han to work with him as soon as possible. He had a reprieve whenever Han would come and visit him, gushing to him about his training and how he still kept up with all of Chris’ cases. Chris would indulge his tangents for hours, watching Han with his chin in his hand, smiling fondly. But the day they’d become partners – July 3rd, had been one of the happiest days of his life. Han had cried the second he’d stepped into Chris’ office, beaming at him and Changbin. He’d been shaking as Chris had pulled him into a hug, soaking the Inspector’s shirt with his tears.

They’d clicked so easily. Chris had admired Han before, but they’d instantly became inseparable. Han would wait for him to finish, no matter how late it had gotten – Chris almost always worked overtime – or bring him dinner. He’d started showing up at the Inspector’s doorstep, just in time for their commute to work. They’d started hanging out, cracking jokes and teasing each other. Han made him laugh. Han made it easier to breathe, to laugh, to _exist._

He hadn’t told Han much about his nightmares, wanting to protect him. He’d always wanted to be able to take care of his Constable – Han, Hannie, Jisungie – and had always done whatever he could to relieve Han of stress or pressure.

So when Han had been worried about Hyunjin, Chris hadn’t been afraid to instantly step in. He’d pulled himself up to his full height, fully prepared to punch the Constable in the jaw if it meant appeasing Han. He’d acted like a dick (well, as much as he felt he could in a professional setting) on purpose, when normally he would have been all soft smiles and _‘it’s so good to meet you, please, call me Chris. Here’s my number, and my office is the third on the left. If you need anything at all, please come and get me.’_

He thought about Han leaning into his touches, Han’s cheeks flushing, and his heart just _melting._ His heart would break if Changbin had to leave 3Racha, but if Han were to go…no, even the thought of it hurt too much. He’d rather die than lose Han.

Then Han had cried after he’d met Minho – no, after _Chris_ had let his Constable get hurt. Chris knew that Han hadn’t cried over his physical injuries, but because he’d felt betrayed. Chris had shoved the memory down shamefully, wanting to avoid thinking about it at all costs. Fuck, even seeing Han frown made his heart ache a little. Seeing Han’s tears, knowing that he had caused them, filled him with self-loathing.

_‘Do I matter to you at all?’_

It had left his heart in pieces.

“Chris?” Han poked his ribs, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Chris jumped as if he’d been burned, eyes wide as he stared at Han. He felt like Han could see right through him. He fixed his gaze on his feet, ears burning. “You all good?”

“Y-y-yeah,” he really wasn’t good. He really didn’t know how to take this. “Yeah, I’m good.” _‘And downright stupid.’_ He told himself. How had it taken him not one, not two, but _five years_ to come to this sort of realisation?

“You sure?” Han was clearly not convinced.

“Yeah, just the case. Don’t worry.” Han nodded slowly, turning back to the pots on the stove. Chris wondered if Han had ever really noticed how much time they spent together. Han had never had a boyfriend during all the time they’d been working together. Not for Chris and Changbin’s lack of trying, either. Han had always rolled his eyes or had shut them down as soon as they’d suggested trying to hook him up with someone. So then…could that mean…could that mean that Han had viewed their interactions as something beyond friendship?

No, that couldn’t be right. They were partners. Good friends. That was it.

Then Chris thought of Changbin again. He’d been working with Changbin for longer. Changbin had been there for his flashbacks, for his nightmares, had helped him get away from his awful coping mechanisms. They hung out often, too. They got along well. But then…Chris rubbed his jaw, puzzled. Then why did it feel different with Han? Why did he feel a rush of nerves before he greeted Han every morning? Why did he feel a thrill in his stomach whenever Han smiled, or laughed? Why did he feel the need to call Han _his?_ The answer seemed preposterous, and yet seemed so simple. It made so much sense.

He liked Han. He had feelings for _Han_. His Constable. His friend.

Fuck.

And he’d almost kissed _Minho_ , while Han had been looking for him. To make matters worse, he didn’t even really regret it. Surely…surely that was just because of his subconscious. He couldn’t have feelings for two people. That was impossible. He’d just been attracted to Minho, because Minho was objectively very attractive, and because they shared a past, and because Minho had a nice smile – _‘stop that right now, Christopher.’_ He warned himself. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t! He had a case on his hands, with multiple deaths, and was dealing with an international crime syndicate! He couldn’t go around all day thinking about how much he wanted to kiss his childhood best friend or cuddle his fellow detective.

“Hey, Chris. You sure it’s just the case? You haven’t moved for about five minutes.” Chris couldn’t bring himself to look at Han. He stared down at his toes. Han gingerly poked his shoulder. “Earth to Chris. Wakey wakey.” Chris glanced at him for a moment. Han’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “Did you sleep at all last night?” Chris was suddenly vividly reminded of the last few night’s events. Calling Changbin, having an existential crisis, and going to sleep next to Minho. He felt his face flush with heat. Han frowned, pressing the back of his hand to Chris’ forehead. “You might be coming down with something.” Han mused, his suspicion being replaced with concern. _‘Just coming down with feelings, Hannie, nothing too fatal.’_

“Don’t worry about me, Hannie.” But Han just frowned at him.

“I’m always worried about you.” The Constable murmured. “Chris –” Then the stove began hissing as one of the pots began to overboil. They both dove towards the stove, grabbing the wooden ladel at the same time.

“Han –”

“Chris –”

“I’ve got it.” The Inspector murmured, reaching over to gingerly lift the lid off of the pot. Han wordlessly offered him the spoon. As Chris began stirring, Han sighed, looking down at his feet. “Alright, now what’s up with _you?_ ” The boiling soup now successfully reduced to a simmer, and Chris gingerly added some noodles. Jisung just watched him for a moment, pursing his lips.

“Can you call me Jisung?” His Constable blurted out. Chris paused for a moment, confused.

“I do. I call you Jisungie.” He watched as Han’s cheeks went red.

“Yeah, but that’s only _sometimes_. Everyone calls me Han, or Constable. I – I really like it when you call me Jisung.” Chris just stared for a moment. Then he felt himself grin, his eyes crinkling. He ruffled Han’s – _Jisung’s_ – hair.

“Here I thought you hated it when I call you by your first name. You always seem so flustered.” Jisung’s eyes widened, and he went even more red.

“Y-you must be imagining things.” Jisung muttered. “Don’t burn the bloody ramen, Chris.”

“Have a little bit more faith in me, _Jisungie._ ” Chris winked at Jisung, making sure to stress the nickname.

“Shut up.” Jisung grumbled, turning away from him. Chris couldn’t help but laugh. Finally, a bit of normalcy. The pair lapsed into silence. This time, it didn’t feel strained, or tense. It was comfortable. Easy. Chris began to feel himself relax. He hadn’t even release how tightly he’d been holding his shoulders, or how tired his muscles were. He felt like he’d dropped a couple centimetres in height when the nervous energy that had been thrumming through him finally began to ease. He began tilting his head from side to side, humming in satisfaction when he was able to elicit pops and cracks, releasing more tension from neck. “Better?” Jisung murmured. Chris glanced over at Jisung, startled. He hadn’t even realised the other Detective had been paying attention.

“As long as you’re with me.” The words slipped from his lips before he’d had a chance to consider the wording. He froze, eyes widening. “I – I – I – I mean, um, well, no, not that I don’t mean it, I just, you know, it wasn’t – in case you thought that – I didn’t –” Chris fully acknowledged that his brain had malfunctioned, unable to stop the train wreck currently tumbling from his lips. He wondered how long Jisung was going to let him continue to embarrass himself. Thankfully, Jisung only let him stutter on for another few seconds before shutting him up. He’d expected Jisung to laugh, or to tell him to be quiet.

But Jisung smirked.

That alone had Chris gaping like a fish, trying to catch his breath.

He wasn’t blind – he had eyes, he’d always known how attractive Jisung was. But that expression – the smug, self-satisfied tilt of his lips, the slight tilt of his head, the subsequent lip bite, the quick swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip, the way Jisung’s eyes _gleamed_ , was not just attractive, it was incredibly –

“Hot.” He blurted out. His hands flew to his mouth. Jisung was grinning at him now, looking smug and far too pleased with himself. It was almost an expression he would expect from Minho. There was an embarrassingly long silence before he realised he had to cover his ass. “I – I mean – it’s hot. In here. Yes.”

“Not particularly.” Jisung replied, far too cheerfully. “It’s quite nice weather today.” Chris desperately tried to start thinking of something to help him regain his composure, when he heard a loud, thoroughly unimpressed sigh from the doorway.

“I’m hungry.” Changbin deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Binnie!” Chris squeaked, eyes wide. Changbin was giving him a _look,_ the one that let him know he was being incredibly stupid and looked like an idiot.

“It’ll be done soon, Binnie, go sit down.” Jisung retorted. “Chris, help me get the bowls.” Then Jisung was in his personal space, leaning down right in front of him, beginning to dig in the cupboard. As his Constable straightened up, his hair brushed past the Inspector’s nose. Chris felt himself freeze.

This time Changbin had the nerve to groan, clearly ignoring Chris’ silent pleas of _‘please help me what do I do, what should I do –’_

“Come on, Chris, we can’t keep them waiting.” Jisung murmured into his ear, and fuck – _fuck,_ when had he gotten so close? It was reminiscent of just half an hour earlier, when his body had been pressed against Minho’s. Chris felt his heart began to pound against his ribs.

“Hungry.” Changbin insisted. “I’m _hungry._ ” The Sergeant was whining now, clearly trying to tug on his heartstrings. Finally, Chris manages to gather his brain cells together enough to pull out the only weapon he had against his Constable –

“ _Jisungie._ ” He murmured. Jisung’s eyes widened. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE  
> i've been sitting on this chaotic mess for far too long and i just wanted to post it because i've been so incredibly excited to share it with you. this chapter and the next one are my favourites so far, so i hope you like it!! (please i'm begging you)
> 
> yes, i know, there's more minsung conflict, but this is what allows minho to finally open up to han. but more of that in chapter 10. and finally! chan has stopped being so incredibly dense! 
> 
> also! quick update on the prologues!! i have two prologues already written, so they'll probably be posted within the next few weeks just to tide you guys 
> 
> all i can say is. Enjoy. see you saturday, for either a 10k long chapter or maybe even a 20k long chapter. who knows. until then, take care! and as always, thank you so much for reading <3  
> \- c


	10. Lachrymose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hold on, Chris, Minho will be here soon. Hold on for me, Chris, please.”
> 
> // heads up for a more graphic description than previous chapters

_[Tearful.]_

_[You try to stop me, but I go one step forward, babe.]_

**Friday, morning**

Minho stirred with a soft groan, stretching out his legs and arms as he yawned. He rolled over onto his side, eyes flying open when his arm landed on the warm body next to him. For a moment, he barely even realised that the moment was real. He felt certain that he must have been still asleep, still dreaming.

“Channie,” He breathed, his eyes softening. Chan was curled up next to him, his cheek pillowed on his arm. He looked so peaceful and impossibly calm, and it made Minho’s heart swell with warmth. All of a sudden he was vividly reminded of the previous afternoon – Chan’s breath fanning over his face, Chan’s pupils blown wide and dark, Chan just a hairsbreadth away. Minho was certain that his cheeks were bright red. His face flushed with heat.

They hadn’t yet spoken about the… _incident_ that had occurred yesterday.

Minho knew he should have been anxious. He knew that the sight of Chan should have filled with him apprehension. But he felt strangely relaxed. He hadn’t been the one begging, almost pleading, yesterday. He’d been the one trying to keep his distance. That left one thing certain in his mind – Chan _wanted_ him. Whether he was fully okay with it or not was another story. But Minho could wait. He would be patient. He’d waited thirteen years already, after all, what more was another few weeks?

Then a chill ran down his spine. Minho scowled, curling his hands into fists. That was if he had time. He was no closer to finding Hale’s killer, and he had no doubt another murder was waiting in the wings. His enemy was impatient this time. There’d been two murders so far. Tailor’s killer had been a lackey. But Hale’s death…that had been more complex. It had taken extra premeditation.

Chan sighed softly in his sleep, nuzzling closer to Minho. He froze as Chan reached out to him, the Inspector’s fingers loosely tangling in his shirt. Well, Chan’s shirt. Minho had taken to finding every possible excuse under the sun for being able to wear Chan’s clothes. What was funnier was that Han was also all-too aware that they were Chan’s clothes – the Constable was observant, Minho would give him that. The way the Constable would pout and shoot glares at Minho whenever he wore Chan’s clothing was a never-ending source of amusement for him.

Minho let his eyes roam over Chan’s face for a moment longer before he sighed. He needed to call Han. As much as he knew the other man was still furious with him, he was the only one in Chan’s circle that knew the full story. He wasn’t sure yet how much Changbin knew, but Minho didn’t know how much he could open up to Changbin.

Minho understood Han. Han was predictable. Han was his ally. He was as protective over Chan as Minho was, and for that, Minho knew that the Constable would always hear him out. His eyes landed on Chan’s phone, lying on the bedside table. His heart twisted as he began to untangle himself from Chan’s grasp. He felt a lump rise in his throat as he took Chan’s hand and placed it back over the Inspector’s shirt. Moments like these were so few and precious, but Minho didn’t have time to be selfish. He slid gently from the bed onto his feet, carefully sneaking over to the bedside table.

He unlocked with the passcode Chan had given him – 0325 – and slipped out of the room, gingerly closing the door behind him. He sighed as he stared down at the time. _5:05am._ Chan would likely be awake soon. He opened Chan’s contacts list, frowning as he saw how small it was.

_A-Yeong_

_BamBam_ 😊

_Boss_

_Changbinnie_

_JB_

_Jihyo_

_Jisungie_

_Sana_

He frowned at the smiley face next to one of the contacts. That was something to weasel out of Han later. But the first name struck him.

_A-Yeong…_

A woman’s face came to mind. Stern, indifferent, yet beautiful. Exquisite yet untouchable, like a precious gem.

_“It’s like you live here.” She sniffed haughtily at him, her hair wound tightly into a bun on the back of her head. She had long since given up the pretence of being a warm and inviting motherly figure. Now that Minho knew the truth behind Chan, and the dark secrets of Kwang-hoon’s world, she knew that he would easily be able to see through her façade. “Don’t you have your own home to scurry off to?”_

_“He’s here because I want him to be.” Chan’s eyes flashed with a silent challenge, and he pulled himself up to his full height. Minho watched curiously, unperturbed by A-Yeong’s glare. She was nowhere near as scary as Kwang-hoon. And she knew it. She hated that he wasn’t cowed by her presence._

_“I see.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, her mouth twitching as if she was trying to hold back her vicious words. But Minho and A-Yeong both knew that really, Chan was the most powerful person in the room. He called the shots. He ran the show. And he would answer only to Kwang-hoon. The fight really lay between him and A-Yeong for who was next in the pecking order. Minho lifted his chin, staring directly at A-Yeong as he addressed Chan._

_“I’ll stay.” The air between them filled with tension._

_“Good.” Chan smiled at him, turning away from his mother and clapping a hand onto Minho’s shoulder. “Lead the way.” Now A-Yeong’s glare was filled with true venom, and Minho had to bite back a smirk. It seemed like they both knew who had won the battle. For there was only one other person in the entire world that Chan deferred to._

_And that was Minho._

He clenched his jaw and roughly jabbed at Han’s contact, pressing the ‘call’ button before he could get further lost in his memories. It rang for what seemed like a mere fraction of a second before Han answered. Once again, Minho was struck by the Constable’s devotion to Chan. It was…admirable, honestly. Under different circumstances, Minho kind of hoped that the two of them could’ve been friends. He would have liked to have met Han outside of this whole shitshow. Han was nice, when he wasn’t prone to snapping at every given moment. Minho knew that it was just the stress talking. He also knew that it was the fear that made Han more territorial over Chan. But when Minho spoke with Han when the Constable was more relaxed – they got along quite well. It was a shame, really.

“Chris?” Han sounded breathless, voice rough with sleep. “Chris, are you okay? Why did you call?” Han’s voice was so soft and gentle, and it melted Minho’s heart. He winced, almost subconsciously, at the thought of ripping the warmth from Han’s voice with his mere presence.

“It’s me.” Minho murmured, and he heard a sharp intake of breath from over the phone.

“Where is he? Is he okay? Is he safe? Did something –”

“He’s fine.” Minho shook his head before remembering that Han couldn’t see him. “Listen, I…I know that you’re angry at me, but I needed to talk to you.”

“Of course I’m angry.” Han hissed. “He got stabbed. Fucking stabbed! But I guess I’m more mad at myself for that.” Han muttered, sounding like he was talking to himself. “But I’m angry at you for pointing a knife at him!”

“I’m sorry.” Minho didn’t know what else he could say to make it better.

“I – I know.” Han stuttered for a moment, as if he was unsure of how to respond. As if he hadn’t been expecting an apology. For some reason, it made Minho’s heart clench. He disliked the idea that Han thought so little of him. “Then…what’s up?” Han’s voice had lost its bite. He just sounded confused now.

“We need a plan.” He murmured.

“You mean you didn’t have one already?”

“I did, before they decided they’d speed up the murders.” Minho growled. “Now I don’t know what to do.”

“But…you have way more knowledge than we do.” Han whispered. “How can I help _you_ with this, Minho?”

“Because I trust the way that you think.” He didn’t mean to sound sulky, but he hated having to admit that he couldn’t do this by himself. “Have you told Seo yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Tell him.” Minho murmured, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I still think we should tell Chris.”

“No.” Minho shot back instantly. “He can’t know.”

“He’ll figure it out.”

“He won’t. I’ll catch them before they can get to him.”

“What if he gets his memories back?”

“Highly unlikely.” Minho knew he was getting snippy now, but Han seemed determined not to give in.

“Then what about when the notes tell him?” At this, Minho froze.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Minho hissed, and Han snorted.

“It’s not as if I didn’t notice. Bang Chan, right? Or Chan Bang. It doesn’t take a genius to notice that the notes so far are starting to spell it out.” Minho swore under his breath. “And you’re so cagey about it. Get a grip, Minho, or he _will_ figure it out.”

“You’re smart.”

“I know. Glad you finally noticed. There _is_ a reason Chris picked me.”

“I should have realised.” Minho muttered. “Still, Han – Han, he _can’t know._ ”

“Are you sure him not knowing will keep him safe?” Han’s voice lowered.

“I –”

“ _Minho,_ listen to me. Are you sure it will help keep him safe?” Minho didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want Chan’s life being thrust into his hands again. He didn’t want to make the wrong decision. But if Chan knew even a little bit more…he’d want to know everything. And Minho didn’t want him to remember. Minho didn’t want him to become plagued with even more flashbacks and pain. And…a selfish part of Minho preferred _this_ Chan.

This Chan was older, and kinder, but he was still _Minho’s_ Chan. There were still so many elements that Minho recognised from when they were younger. This was the boy who had been Minho’s first kiss, who had been his first friend. They’d told each other everything and had supported each other through the toughest of times. But he was gentler, less jaded. He smiled freely at strangers and he _trusted_ more than one person. He was impressed by things like the sunset, and got incredibly passionate over a hot meal. He was…happier.

That was all Minho had ever wanted for Chan. _Happiness._ And it would break him if he was the one to take that away.

“Minho?” Han asked again, and this time, Minho made sure his voice didn’t shake.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Han murmured. “Okay. I trust you.” At this, Minho felt a lump forming in his throat.

“Th-thanks, Han.”

“It’s okay.” There was a pause. “You should go back to sleep, Minho.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to.” He admitted, his voice small. He could almost _see_ Han’s smile in the soft chuckle he received in response.

“You mean you have a whole two hours to cuddle Chris and you’re not already there?” At this, Minho felt a smile tug at his lips. “Don’t make me come over there and take your place.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go and keep him warm for you.” Han chuckled softly.

“Thanks, man.” For once, Minho detected no trace of jealousy in the other man’s tone. “I-I know that no matter what, you’ll always try and look after him.” Han sighed. “Which…I’ll be honest, sometimes pisses me off, because it means I can’t dislike you. It just makes me respect you.”

“I get it.” Minho murmured. “I promise, Constable, I’ve been trying my very best to hate you.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Han shot back. “Between the two of us, he’d have to actively _try_ to get himself killed.”

“I would certainly hope so.” Minho snorted. “We’re both clingy as it is.” At this, Han barked out a laugh, which soon dissolved into giggles.

“Fuck, that’s so accurate it hurts.” Han paused after this.

“Han?” Minho whispered. “Are you still there?”

“Mhmm.” Han hummed. “I’m just…thinking.”

“Careful, your head may explode.”

“Shut _up,_ Minho, I’m trying to figure out how to word this so that you won’t hit me the next time I see you.” Minho frowned at this.

“What do you mean?”

“Look Minho, listen.” Han’s voice had taken a nervous turn again. “I…I know we both have feelings for him.” At this, Minho’s heart twisted.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Only as much as I am.” Han snorted. “And…he’s bound to notice, at some point.” Then Han laughed. “Scratch that, he’s about as aware as a plank of wood.”

“Agreed.”

“But…I – I think we should stop fighting over it.” Minho sighed at this, letting his shoulders slump. Silence reigned between them, cloying and uncomfortable. Han refused to say anything else. Minho understood. Unlike him, Han had tried enough to be amicable. He couldn’t be the only one to reach out anymore. Finally, Minho swallowed roughly.

“I feel like I owe you another apology.” Minho murmured. His voice was soft, full of shame. He felt a little guilty for how he’d treated Han before. But…Han was right. They didn’t need to keep fighting when really, they were on the same side. He was tired of fighting with Han – he liked the guy, for fuck’s sake, he didn’t want half of their interactions to turn into arguments or stupid bickering. Not when Chan was oblivious, and there was a case to solve, and Minho had too many complicated feelings swirling around in his head and chest. 

“You don’t say.” Han muttered drily.

“After I realised you weren’t a threat, I – I was jealous of you.” Minho found it hard to be honest about his feelings at the best of times. Right now, he knew that it sounded like he was admitting to murder, the way he had to drag the words out of his throat.

“I know.” Minho couldn’t help but smile softly at the relief in Han’s voice. “I…I was the same. I’m surprised I didn’t actually turn green or combust, I was so jealous.” Minho ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been in love with this asshole for at least a year, and I’ve had feelings for him for five. You’d think he’d notice by now.”

“Still as clueless as ever, I see.” Minho huffed, but it was fond.

“Little bit of an idiot, right?” Han giggled softly.

“Right.” Minho’s smile began to grow. “But our idiot, right?” Han paused, and Minho hoped it was because he was smiling. He liked Han’s smile.

“Right.” Han chuckled. “Okay, try and get a nap in before work starts, alright? I’ll talk to you later. I’ll talk to Changbin, and then you, me, and Binnie can figure everything out.”

“Yeah. I’ll send him off with Felix and Jeongin.”

“I’m still mad at you, by the way.” Han murmured, but there was no bite behind it. “But…I thought about it a lot earlier. You looked awful, yesterday, as soon as you realised what had happened. After the…” The Constable trailed off, clearly not wanting to say something that might upset him.

“Wow, thanks.” Minho couldn’t help but retort.

“Shut up for a second, okay? I just thought about how _I_ would feel in that situation. I know I probably would have reacted the same. And…I have a feeling that you’re even more mad at yourself than I am. So I know that it won’t happen again.” There was a warning behind the words, but Minho knew that it was well-justified.

“It won’t.” He inhaled deeply. “Thank you. Really. You have every right to still be mad.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Han’s voice was teasing, light. “I’m still angry. But at least I get it.”

“Han, I – I mean it. Thank you. For giving me a second chance.”

“That’s okay.” Han’s voice had softened.

“I – I guess I’ll see you in a few hours, then?”

“Yeah. Bye, Minho.”

“Bye, Han.” With that, he ended the call and let his hand drop to his side. Finally, for the first time since arriving in London, Minho felt…somewhat calm. He was glad that he’d finally fixed things with Han. Whenever he and Han walked away from each other after conflict, Minho was left with a sour taste in his mouth.

He slipped Chan’s phone into his pocket and snuck back into the bedroom. Chan was beginning to stir, moving restlessly. He was frowning. God, how Minho wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss his nose, and his forehead, and his cheeks, and kiss the top of his head, and kiss his chin. He wanted to trail his lips along Chan’s jaw, run them down his neck, pressing them to Chan’s shoulders. He wanted to press their lips together. He wanted to feel the heat that seared between them in the past.

Minho wanted to go back to before this whole shit show, back when they’d been young, dumb teenagers. When nothing else had mattered but what they’d thought true love was. When kissing Chan was second nature.

Maybe he shouldn’t have made Chan second-guess himself yesterday. Maybe then he’d be free to go and smooth away Chan’s tortured expression with his lips.

He gently placed Chan’s phone back on the nightstand and lay down on the bed. He wrapped his arms around the Detective and pulled him close. Instantly, the older man stilled. He seemed to wake up for a moment, blinking blearily, but then mumbled to himself and grabbed a fistful of Minho’s shirt. He buried his face in Minho’s neck and sighed happily, readjusting so that his legs were tangled with Minho’s.

“Go back to sleep, Channie.” Minho whispered, beginning to card his fingers through the Inspector’s hair. “I’ve got you.” And if he pressed his lips to Chan’s forehead, sprinkling butterfly kisses across Chan’s hair until Chan was breathing evenly and was slack in his hold, no one needed to know.

✧✧✧

“You didn’t come with them today.” Changbin remarked, shouldering his bag as he began to climb the stairs. “I don’t think you’ve asked me for a lift since that time you gave Chris food poisoning.” 

“Hey!” Han squeaked. “It wasn’t my fault my fridge died.”

“It wasn’t, but it _was_ your fault that you didn’t buy fresh meat.”

“I thought it’d be okay!”

“Sometimes I wonder how you ended up a genius.” Changbin sighed. He roughly shoved open the door to the homicide department, giving Jihyo a small nod when he saw her. The Inspector gave the pair a wave before turning back to Nayeon, who was smiling fondly at her. “So, are you gonna spill? You didn’t say anything on the way here, but I could pretty much _hear_ your brain ticking.” Han didn’t answer, and he saw the Sergeant roll his eyes. “It has something to do with Chris or Minho, or both of them. What’s up?” Han remained silent as he followed Changbin to his Inspector’s office, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I…” He trailed off, staring down at his hands. Changbin sighed again, throwing himself into Chris’ chair.

“You’re jealous.” Changbin was so calm, so matter of fact, and it made Han’s cheeks light on fire.

“W-well, not exactly, I wouldn’t say – and besides, that’s not the problem –”

“It is.” Changbin crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps flexing. “Because if you don’t deal with that, you won’t be able to deal with Lee.”

“We made up.” Han muttered back, but he knew there was no conviction to it.

“So the next time you see him touching Chris’s shoulder, or the two of them go off somewhere, you’ll be fine with it? You won’t forget what you’re doing?”

“Sh-shut up.” Han shot back, now glowering at his feet. “I hate you.”

“You hate that I’m right.” Changbin retorted, and Han pouted, pressing his lips together.

“Fine! Okay! So maybe I hate it that he gets so close to Chris. Maybe I hate feeling like I’m second-best, Binnie.”

“Maybe you hate thinking he’s not going to end up with you.” While the words themselves were sharp, Changbin’s voice was kind. Han finally looked up, and Changbin was watching him with a sad expression. “I’m not blind, Hannie. I’ve noticed.”

“I knew you would.” Han sighed. “I just…”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“What the fuck, are you crazy? No! Of course I’m not!” Han knew his cheeks were bright red again, but he didn’t care.

“Then how is he gonna know?” At this, Han faltered. “You know him, Han, he’s a bit dumb sometimes.”

“A lot dumb, and try all the time.” Han chuckled drily. “I know, I just…I’m scared.”

“Try it.” Changbin was smiling at him now. “I don’t think it will go as badly as you think.” Han’s eyes widened.

“You think so?” He couldn’t help the way hope flooded his treacherous heart.

“Yeah. Trust me. He’s just dense, he needs a bit of a shove.”

“Are you sure? What if he doesn’t…doesn’t feel the same?” Han ended in a whisper, staring down at his hands.

“Are you kidding?” Changbin burst out laughing. “Han! Oh, Hannie.” Changbin sighed. “Just…the way he looks at you. The way he’s always next to you, or looking for you. Chris and I have been best friends for almost…fuck, what is it now, ten years? But the minute you show up, he forgets I’m even there.” Changbin leans back in his chair, smirking. “Please, Han, I _know_ he likes you.”

“You’re lying.” Han frowned. In reality, his heart was about to burst out of his chest. His traitorous mind was screaming at him to believe Changbin, to take this new information and run with it, but he couldn’t let himself give into the fantasy just yet.

“Am not.” Changbin glared at him. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this, Han. Last night, in the kitchen? He was so shy and flustered. He doesn’t get like that around anyone else.”

“Except for Minho.” Han blurted out.

“Precisely why you have to make a move now.” Changbin shrugged. “Look, you can thank me by not burning holes into Minho’s head with your eyes.” Changbin added. “Han, I mean it. When you were redressing his leg last night, he looked at you like you’d just created eternal world peace.” Han couldn’t help but giggle. “So don’t let Minho get you down. I feel like if you two got over this stupid rivalry, you’d work well together.”

“Me too.” Han sighed. “And that’s the problem. I can’t just hate him and go. I feel _bad_ about trying to dislike him.”

“Then ‘fess up to Chris or stop letting Minho get a rise out of you.” Changbin shot back. “If you don’t react or say anything snarky, he won’t go near you.” Han pouted at this.

“Easier said than done.”

“Look, Hannie. Go home and brood about it. Don’t let it ruin work for you as well.” Changbin reached out to pat his knee.

“I guess so.”

“You _know_ that I’m right.”

“You always are.” Han grumbled.

“You got it.” Changbin gave him a lopsided grin. “Now, what you _really_ wanted to talk about. There’s something big going on, and I want to know what it is.” Han winced.

“I –”

“Out with it.”

“I don’t know if –”

“Han.”

“But it’s just that –”

_“Han.”_

“Okay, okay.” Han slumped back in his chair, throwing one of his arms over his eyes. _‘Minho said it was the best thing to do.’_ He reasoned with himself. _‘He wouldn’t say that if it would put Chris in danger.’_ Han bit down on his bottom lip. “I know you’ve probably already guessed.”

“Mhmm. Go on.”

“And I don’t want to alarm you.”

“But?”

“There’s a seventh target.”

“And?” Changbin murmured. He was leaning forwards now, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Chris _is_ the target.” Han whispered. He dropped his gaze to the Sergeant’s shoes so that he didn’t have to see Changbin’s expression.

“What?” Changbin hissed, and Han chanced a glance upwards. The Sergeant sat forwards, now tightly gripping the arms of the chair. “I mean, I guessed he was involved, and pretty heavily, but…”

“They’re after Kwang-hoon. They can’t get to him, so –”

“So they’re after his son.” Changbin finished. “Lee said there will be six murders, right?”

“Seven. But Chris _is_ the seventh.” Silence reigned between them for a moment. Then Changbin clasped his hands together and swore under his breath.

“And he doesn’t know, does he?” When Han didn’t respond, Changbin glanced up. “ _Hannie._ ” Changbin looked pained.

“No.” Han breathed. “And we have to keep it that way.”

“Good.” Changbin breathed a sigh of relief, tilting his head back. At this, Han’s brow wrinkled.

“What? But – I thought it’d be better if he knew.”

“He’d try and use himself as bait. He’d put himself in danger deliberately, I know he would. He’d try and save the other victims by putting himself on a silver platter right under their noses.” At this, Han’s stomach began to churn. 

“We need to keep the notes hidden from now on.” Han breathed. “Minho thinks they’re spelling out a message for him.” Changbin nodded, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Like they’re trying to scare him.” Changbin murmured. “A warning. Do you think it is a code?” Han shook his head.

“No, I think it’s just a message, just broken up into parts. So it’s not obvious right away.”

“Do you think it gives away who it is?” Changbin began tapping his foot against the floor. “Who the fucker behind all of this is?” Han frowned, and opened his mouth to speak, when there was a violent knock at the door.

“Changbin! Han!” A muffled voice came from outside the door. Dread pooled in Han’s stomach. He rushed over to the door and threw it door open. His hands starting to shake as his eyes landed on Jihyo, who was as white as a sheet. Nayeon was by her side, and the Inspectors were wide-eyed.  
“Another one?” Han breathed, and Jihyo nodded stiffly. Han looked over his shoulder at Changbin, and for a moment he thought he saw tears in the Sergeant’s eyes. Changbin blinked quickly and stared back at him. Han knew that they were thinking the same thing.

There were only three murders left before Chris would become the target.

✧✧✧

“I’m gonna be so late.” Chris moaned, faceplanting onto Minho’s shoulder. Minho carefully wrapped his scarf around his neck, petting his hair. “This is the first time ever that I’ve slept in, Minho, I can’t believe it.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so good. He’d woken up to Minho’s lips pressed against his forehead, his arms wrapped around Minho’s tummy, and their legs tangled together. He hadn’t woken up once. He’d actually felt _alive_. He hadn’t even needed a coffee.

“That’s because I was with you.” He practically _felt_ Minho’s smugness radiating off of him in waves. “Maybe you should keep me around, just for your sleep schedule.”

“Shut _up_.” Chris whined, gently punching Minho’s arm. Then Minho punched him, but _hard._ “Hey! What was that for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Minho giggled, and Chris rolled his eyes, albeit fondly.

“Are you all good to hang out here today?”

“I have the spare key, Channie, there’s food in the fridge, we’ve watered your god-forsaken cactus, and I’ll be fine.” Minho buried his face in Chris’ hair, wrapping an arm around the Inspector’s waist. “Cactuses are lame. You should get cats, like me.”

“Or I’ll just steal yours.” Chris mumbled into Minho’s neck, and Minho stilled.

“Or maybe I’ll steal you.” Minho whispered into his ear, and Chris felt his face flush with heat.

“I’d like to see you try.” Chris pulled back, shooting Minho a mock glare and poking his tongue out at him. Minho just smirked at Chris, running a hand through his hair. The movement was languid, enticing, and did things to parts of his anatomy that made him want to throw himself out of the window. Minho leaned steadily closer, his smirk growing ever wider. He paused when their noses were touching, and had the audacity to _wink._ Fucking wink! Chris squeaked at this and would have stumbled backwards, had it not been for Minho’s arm still wrapped around his torso.

“Oh yeah?” With that, Minho pulled Chris flush against him, and Chris stared up at him, mouth open and closing like a fish. “Watch me, _Channie-hyung.”_ For some reason, hearing the honorific made Chris’ heart stutter in his chest. He went slack in Minho’s grip, and Minho regarded him quizzically for a moment. “Do you like when I call you that?” For some reason, Minho sounded breathless. Warmth pooled in Chris’ gut at the way Minho’s voice had lowered. “Do you, _Channie-hyung?”_ Chris didn’t know why it had such an effect on him. He’d made a couple of friends in the academy who spoke Korean, but had never spoken it himself. At least, not after he’d lost his memories. And yet…maybe it was just the inflection, or the roughness in Minho’s voice, but it was making his knees weak.

“Say it again.” He blurted out. He stared at Minho with wide eyes, unable to believe what he’d just said. Minho looked equally surprised, but it was quickly replaced by that god-forsaken, hot as fuck, make-him-forget-his-own-name smirk.

“Channie-hyung.” Minho brushed his nose against the Inspector’s cheek, and Chris jolted, grabbing onto Minho’s shirt. “Channie-hyung, you’re going to be late.” He trailed one of his hands up Chris’ back, wrapping his fingers around the back of the Detective’s neck. With a shock, Chris realised that this was an incredibly similar situation to yesterday. Both times, he’d had somewhere to be, something to do, but Minho’s intoxicating presence and overwhelming proximity made it hard to think of anything else. “Channie-hyung,” Minho whispered, his lips mere centimetres away from Chris’ own. Chris swallowed roughly.

“Minho-yah.” That was Korean, right? Something he’d heard BamBam’s friends say to him. The effect was immediate. Minho groaned quietly, and his grip tightened around the Inspector’s waist. “Just…”

“A little longer?” Minho whispered, and Chris nodded, their noses brushing again.

“Yeah.”

“Channie-hyung –” And Chris had to close his eyes at this, because the fire crackling in Minho’s eyes was so much, _too_ much, almost enough to set him alight –

And this his phone rang.

“I won’t answer it.” He grumbled, letting his head rest on Minho’s shoulder. Minho sighed, but let his hand slip from Chris’ neck back to his hip.

“You really should.”

“I don’t wanna.” He knew he sounded whiny, but he didn’t want the moment to end. Not just yet.

“Channie,” Minho sounded amused now. “Quickly, or I’ll do it for you.” Chris grumbled under his breath for a moment but did as he was told. His brow creased when he saw that it was Jihyo that was calling him. Seeing his trepidation, Minho held him tighter as he answered the call.

“Jihyo?”

“Chris, thank god.” Her voice was shaking.

“Sorry, I slept in, is everything okay?” He knew that it wasn’t about him being late. Changbin and Han would have called him, or Han would have shown up banging on the door. It was about the case, it had to be. 

“How prepared are you to see another corpse?” She sounded exhausted. “Changbin and Han are already here.”

“Why didn’t they tell me?” He couldn’t keep the hurt from his voice.

“They thought – well, we thought you should be here too, but if it's too much...” He couldn’t help but scowl. He knew her words were a test. Did he admit that it hadn’t sunk in, that he didn’t really know what was going on inside his brain? Did he allow himself to be vulnerable with her? But the thought of Jihyo telling Sana and his partners that he was back in a dark place, that he wasn’t okay, stung. If it came down to it, he’d tell them himself.

“I’m fine.” He told her firmly. He could picture her frown as she sighed.

“Alright.” He didn’t miss the brief flicker of frustration in her voice.

“Text me the address. I'll be there as soon as I can.” He ended the call, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Another one?” Minho looked gaunt, as if all of the blood had drained from his face. “This is it, the third murder?” Chris nodded, and Minho looked as if he was going to be sick. “I need to call Felix and Jeongin.”

“I need to get going.” Minho pulled away from him and was about to walk away, when Chris grabbed his wrist.

“Be safe.” Minho seemed to relax for a moment, giving him a fond smile.

“Okay, Channie-hyung.” Once again, words hung between them in the air, unspoken.

 _‘I’ll miss you.’_ Chris wanted to say. _‘I want to stay with you.’_ But instead he just patted Minho’s shoulder and grabbed his bag, hurrying outside.

✧✧✧

Changbin was waiting for him outside the apartment building. Chris got out of the car and looked around, taking in the neat apartment buildings and quaint houses – a new estate, he guessed – lining the streets. 

"Nice neighbourhood." He commented, once he reached the Sergeant. He looked shaken. "Changbin?" He hadn’t seen Changbin shaken in a long time. “Binnie?” He murmured gently. “Binnie, are you alright?” Changbin inhaled shakily, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I – can’t.” The Sergeant struggled to spit the words out, as if they were stuck in his throat. Changbin inhaled deeply, and Chris felt the back of his neck prickle with unease. He shook his head wordlessly and pointed to the apartment block.

“Is it that bad?” He asked quietly. Changbin pursed his lips. “Binnie?” He reached out towards his Sergeant, but Changbin flinched back. It was the slightest of movements, but Chris recoiled as if he’d struck the other Detective. He clenched his jaw and turned to head past Changbin, towards the apartment block.

“Don’t.” Changbin’s voice was sharp. “Chris.” A note of pleading entered his partner’s voice. He couldn’t keep the pity from his eyes as he turned his gaze back to the Sergeant. The proud and fierce Detective Sergeant looked broken, and Chris felt his heart crack. He wished Jihyo had called him before she’d gotten to the crime scene. He should’ve been here for his partner. He knew the signs to look for when Changbin was getting overwhelmed and needed a break. When Chris got anxious, he hyperventilated and shook, his breath catching in his throat, heart pounding. But Changbin was the opposite. His partner completely shut down, turning in on himself and hiding away from the world.

“I’ll handle it.” He murmured, placing his hand on Changbin’s shoulder. “Okay? Go back to the station. Let me handle it.”

“No.” There was the stubborn Changbin that he knew. “No, Chris, it’s – it’s bad, and what if you get another flashback and I’m not here?” Changbin’s voice cracked, and he sounded so utterly defeated that it took Chris only seconds before his resolve crumbled. He pulled Changbin into a hug, cradling the back of the Sergeant’s head with his hand.

“I’ll be okay. Jihyo is here. Jisung is here. I can call Sana if you’re worried.”

“Jihyo already called her when she sent me out.” Changbin whispered. “Im came too.” Changbin buried his face into Chris’ shoulder. “That means there’s a full team here to cover it. Hwang and Kim are here too, controlling the area. You can go.” Changbin was pleading with him now, but Chris knew he couldn’t give in. Not this time.

“We promised.” His own voice cracked now, and his voice thickened as tears began to burn behind his eyes. “We promised not to baby each other.”

“This is too much, Chris.” Changbin’s voice was so impossibly small. “I just kept thinking about how you’d react, and – and it – it hurt too much.”

“I can do this. It’s my job.” Chris murmured. It was meant as a comfort, but Changbin stiffened in his hold.

“Why do you always do this?” Changbin spat, suddenly full of anger. He pulled back roughly and gripped Chris’ arms, looking hunted. “Just – _fuck,_ Chris! Let me help you! Don’t do this by yourself, don’t keep pushing it down!” Changbin’s grip tightened, until it was almost bruising. His eyes were wide and full of desperation. “Just trust me for once, will you? You can’t do it. Not this time.” At this, Chris felt his jaw clench. He couldn’t help but feel defensive. It was what had happened when he’d tried to go into the force.

Everyone had said he was too soft, still too damaged, to take up such a high-pressure, stressful job. His academy mates had made bets on how long he’d go until he had a breakdown. Even Sana had always regarded him cautiously. BamBam had always treated him as if he was made out of glass. But Chris was a leader now, he was an _Inspector,_ for fuck’s sake. And this was his case, _his_ team, his responsibility.

“It’s my job.” He repeated, before clenching his jaw. “I wouldn’t have taken this job if I didn’t think I could handle it!”

“Because you _never_ handle your problems!” Changbin shot back, dropping his arms to his sides, curling his hands into fists. “You just work on and on, never stopping to process anything. It’s all going to come out. You’re not going to be able to handle it. And I don’t want it to be now, especially if I’m not here.”

“Let _me_ worry about that.” Chris snapped. He felt like he’d been backed into a corner. A part of him, his logical side, told him that Changbin was right. That if he held back now, he’d be able to go all in later. But for now, he was thinking with the mind of his seventeen-year-old self, ready to lash out the second someone expressed any criticism. Changbin was trying to care about him, he knew that deep down. But he felt hurt. It felt like Changbin didn’t believe in his abilities, or thought him a coward.

“I’m not a Constable now, Chris. I’m a Sergeant, and I’m _your_ Sergeant, and we’re in this together. We’re a team.”

“What the fuck do you want me to do, Changbin? Just go home and sleep, ignore how hard the rest of you are working?” Changbin’s eyes flashed with hurt.

“You know I’d never think that, Chris.” Changbin snapped. “You know that I know you too well for that!”

“Sure.” Chris growled. “It doesn’t sound like it.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say, then?” The Sergeant hissed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go, Chris, I have no concern for your welfare.” Changbin hunched in on himself. “If you didn’t want me to worry about you, you shouldn’t have given me a reason to.”

“What does that mean?” Chris bit back, and Changbin’s eyes narrowed.

“When you started _collapsing_ because of your flashbacks again. When you stopped sleeping. When you stopped _thinking.”_

“I’ve got this under control.” Chris clenched his jaw, forcing the words out from between gritted teeth.

“Sure you do.” Changbin rolled his eyes, and Chris felt his stomach twist. The sarcasm felt like a slap across the face. “So I can trust you to ask for help? I can trust you to not fall to the floor or be sick as soon as you see a body, which is _part of your job?”_

“I’ll be fine!” Chris snapped, and he watched as a muscle twitched in Changbin’s jaw.

“You always say that.” Changbin muttered. “And this time, I don’t fucking believe you. So, no, idiot, I’m not _babying_ you. I’m being a good Sergeant. A good partner.” Changbin swallowed hard. “A good _friend.”_ For a moment, Chris froze. He knew in the back of his head that Changbin was right. But he was so filled with hurt and shame that he couldn’t stop the vehement words that began tumbling from his lips. 

“As if.” Chris growled. “It doesn’t sound like it. You just think I’m not capable.” Changbin just stared at him for a moment, eyes wide in disbelief. Chris couldn’t believe that he’d just thrown such harsh words at his partner. He instantly felt a wave of guilt flow through him, piercing his chest and twisting his stomach into knots. “Changbin –” He began, but the Sergeant clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Fine.” Changbin’s voice was cold. “ _Fine._ You want to do this so badly? Go, then. And when you react so badly that they’ll consider throwing you off the case, come and find me.” Changbin spat. “Fifth floor, room three-hundred and one.” With that, the Sergeant spun sharply on his heel and stalked towards his car.

“Fine.” Chris muttered under his breath, feeling tears of frustration burn behind his eyes. He didn’t often lose his composure, but when he did, it got ugly. He felt like he couldn’t control his mouth, vitriolic words spilling from his lips, seeking only to hurt and attack. He desperately fought down the guilt starting to rise in him, feeling him with nausea. He hadn’t fought with Changbin like that in years. Usually, they at least agreed to disagree, or talk it over later. But they’d never let any argument go without apologising to each other.

The thing was, he _knew_ that Changbin was right. He knew he was dangerously close to spinning out of control, to losing himself. But he didn’t want to be weak. He didn’t want to let down his precious team. He was 3Racha’s leader, holding the steering wheel of their little ship, lost in the storm that was the new case. He couldn’t let go. He didn’t _want_ to let go, even for a second, or he felt like he would crash. Chris resisted the urge to look over his shoulder at Changbin.

He hurried into the building, filled with trepidation as he spotted a few uniformed PCs lingering by the stairwell. He took in the brilliantly-lit, well-furnished hall for a moment, eyes narrowing as he headed for the elevator. He pulled out his badge as the door’s finally slid open.

“Inspector Smith.” He told the nearest Constable.

“Go up, sir. Inspector Park and Constable Han are expecting you.” He gave a nod of assent as he stepped into the elevator. As soon as the door closed, he dug the palms of his heels into his eyes, desperately trying to ground himself.

“Level five here I come.” He murmured, punching in the number. He was full of nervous energy. It had to be bad, to shake Changbin like that. He felt a growing sense of dread as the elevator doors slid open. He spotted the now-familiar figures of Hyunjin and Seungmin hovering outside a room a few doors down. He waved a hand in greeting and the pair almost sprinted over to him. Hyunjin’s face was full of concern.

“Inspector –”

“Chris.” The Inspector reminded him. He gave Hyunjin a small smile.

“Chris.” Hyunjin began, nervously fiddling with his belt. “Sergeant Seo said not to let you go in.” At this, Chris bit down on his bottom lip in frustration.

“Really?” He tried to keep his voice from sounding cold, but it clearly hadn’t worked. Seungmin took a half-step back, eyes widening a fraction. “I’m not mad at you, don’t worry.” He murmured, instantly softening. “Is Han here?” Hyunjin nodded wordlessly.

“He said –”

“Also not to let me in?” Chris couldn’t say he was surprised.

“No.” Hyunjin shook his head vehemently. “He said to let us know when you got here. He asked me to call Felix when I saw you.” Chris thought over the new information for a moment before nodding.

“Okay. Go get Han for me, then, Seungmin, and you can call Felix, Hyunjin.” The two Constables nodded. Hyunjin pulled out his phone as Seungmin hurried down the hallway. Hyunjin hesitated for a moment, his finger hovering over the call button.

“Chris, are you…” The concern in the Constable’s eyes should have been endearing. But it just made him feel sick. He didn’t deserve it, not after how he’d snapped at Changbin.

“I’m fine.” He replied, more forcefully than necessary. A flicker of hurt passed over Hyunjin’s face, making Chris feel even worse. Thankfully, he didn’t have any more time to dwell on it as a door burst open and Jisung appeared. He looked haunted, his face pale. But as soon as their eyes locked, Han seemed to become full of energy.

“Chris.” He murmured, as soon as he was by the Inspector’s side. “Are you sure about this?” Chris glanced at Hyunjin, who was listening intently to whatever Felix was telling him. Seungmin, catching his eye, thankfully took the hint, ducking his head and going to stand with Hyunjin. Chris turned back to Jisung and bit down on his lip.

“I don’t know.” He whispered.

“I told Hyunjin to call Felix.” Jisung murmured, reaching out to wrap his fingers around the Inspector’s wrist. “I want Minho to be aware.” Chris couldn’t help the way his eyes widened in shock, and Jisung scowled. “I’m still pissed, but we do need him for this. He can help with the case.”

“Thank you.” Chris murmured after a moment. “And thank you for not telling me to leave.”

“You’d come back.” Jisung sighed. “You’d find a way in, you dumbass. I’m not stupid.” He looked up, giving Chris a small, soft smile. “And neither are you. Just tell me if you’re at your limit, okay? Or if you start feeling dizzy, or if you need water –” It was times like these in movies that the main character would surge forwards and kiss the breath out of their love interest. But Chris couldn’t, as much as he so desperately wanted to. He opted for grabbing one of Jisung’s hands, squeezing it tight. Jisung froze, the words dying on his tongue.

“Let’s go.” Chris murmured. He waited for Jisung to pull his hand out of Chris’ grasp, but it didn’t happen. He bit down on his lip before walking towards the room, Jisung’s hand still in his grasp. He stopped outside of the room only to find Jisung staring up at him, seeming a little starstruck. “Jisungie?” And just like that, a pink blush began colouring Jisung’s face. 

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah. Let’s go.” Jisung shook his head as if to clear it. He squeezed Chris’ hand, nibbling on his top lip in thought. “Chris, I…please just let me know if you start feeling weird. It’s…it’s really not pretty.”

“I’ll try.” Jisung sighed, but seemed to accept it. His Constable glanced down at his leg. It was properly bandaged now, hidden away beneath his trousers.

“Any heat or tingling or numbness? No stabbing pain?” Chris shook his head, and Jisung breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m taking you to a doctor after this, okay?” Chris just nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to argue. “Okay. I _am_ glad you’re here, by the way.” Jisung opened the door carefully, now slipping his fingers in between Chris’ so that their hands were more comfortably intertwined.

“There you are.” The pair came face to face with Inspector Nayeon, who currently had her hands propped loosely on her hips. Jihyo was next to her, leaning against the wall, her short dark hair sleek.

“Chris!” She brightened up for a moment, only for her shoulders to slump as she went back to frowning.

“Long time no see.” Nayeon offered her hand for Chris to shake, her eyes flicking to how one of his hands was still intertwined with Jisung’s. If she was curious, she hid it well. He clasped her hand firmly and she gave him a small smile, one that didn’t show her teeth. She was worried. She flicked her low ponytail over her shoulder. “Name is Hua Cheng. Twenty-seven. A secondary school teacher at a local private school, about ten minutes away. No criminal record.” Nayeon was just rolling off the facts, but Chris didn’t miss Jisung’s sharp intake of breath.

“Another one.” He breathed. Jisung’s grip tightened.

“It’s the third one this week.” Jihyo murmured, turning her gaze to Chris. "Come on, then.” Chris felt his muscles bunch as he stepped forwards. His gaze returned to Jihyo, and he realised that the Inspector was scrutinising him. Chris stared back, refusing to let her see how weak he felt. It took all of his willpower not to cave and duck his head, as he was so used to doing.

But he’d fought with Changbin over this. He had to prove that he was worth keeping on the case. With that in mind, he dug his nails into his palms and forced himself to hold firm. Finally, Jihyo gave him a small nod and stepped to the side. As they stepped into the main room, Chris instantly felt the world spin as he was met with the grisly sight of the corpse. His stomach lurched and he gagged, tearing his hand away from Jisung’s.

"Bin." Nayeon pointed to the side, and Chris nodded his thanks before grabbing the bin and emptying the contents of his stomach into it. "Thought you'd need it." She sounded only vaguely sympathetic, her eyes fixed on the corpse. Jisung was by his side in seconds, gently rubbing his back, murmuring to him. Chris inhaled deeply, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He dug his nails into his palms again, relishing the dull pain that made reality that bit sharper, and steeled himself to look at the corpse again.

He made his way back over to the other two Inspectors. Jisung’s hand found his again, and Chris didn’t have the heart to pull away. Jisung was a lifeline, his anchor in the chaos he’d thrown himself into. The light was missing in the middle of the room. In its place was a rope, which was knotted around the wrists of the body. The hands were swollen and purpled. She'd been strung up like a piece of meat. But that was just the beginning. The young woman had been stripped naked, and her bare flesh was a gruesome patchwork of bruises and open wounds. Her head was tilted back, her mouth gagged with tape. There was an inflamed mark on her chest. Her stomach had been slit open, as had her neck. Her expression was one of pure, unadulterated agony. She had suffered. God, how she'd suffered. 

“Hua Cheng.” Chris whispered, not able to comprehend what he was seeing. “I’m so sorry.” He felt guilt-ridden. How had he been able to sleep, when there was someone out there roaming the streets, free as a swallow, when this poor woman had been brutally murdered?

“She was last seen two days ago.” Nayeon told him, and Chris froze. Hale had been missing the day before she'd been discovered, too. Hale's death was still fresh in his mind – only a few days had passed since her untimely demise. "I found two particular points of interest about her corpse." 

"I could give you more than two." Chris murmured, still in shock. Nayeon chuckled darkly. "Penny for your thoughts though." 

"She has an _L_ branded onto her left breast." Seeing Chris' eyes widen in horror, the Inspector nodded. "Yes. Branded like cattle. I've no idea what it means, but she didn't put it there herself. Second, the killer put bullets through both her knees and elbows."

"Isn't that usually a gang punishment?" It didn't make sense. He wouldn’t have expected to see something like this from the Southside gangs, unless it was someone high-profile. But Cheng was just a teacher. She had to have a police check done so that she allowed to work with kids in the first place. Chris bit down on the inside of his cheek. Maybe one of the men she had _relations_ with had fucked one of the gangs over. Maybe it had been a revenge killing. Maybe whoever was behind the murders had handed over information that had landed Cheng in the clutches of whoever had taken Tailor.

"Her record is clear. We've already checked. There's no way this is a gang killing." Nayeon was tapping her chin in thought. Chris bit down on his tongue, making eye contact with Jisung as he fought the urge to tell her just how wrong she probably was.

“Copy-cats, maybe?” Jihyo mused. “That, or the killer may have wanted to throw us off the scent." But Chris shook his head.

“But remember, our informant said to watch the gangs, particularly the portside ones.” The Inspector muttered. “It could still be related.”

“Plus, remember Tailor?” Han cut in. “Clean record, turned out to be pushing. Then Hale. Seemed innocent, was probably laundering money.” Jihyo swore under her breath.

“The gangs may have helped kill her. Some of this…this other _shit_ may have been done after she was dead.” Chris muttered. “Like Tailor – killed, then the body was dumped and set upon somewhere else.”

“To make a show for us.” Han scowled, and Chris sighed.

“It’s just like…like all of the others I’ve seen.” The Inspector closed his eyes. "And if this is anything like Hale's death, then it was done for a reason. The killer is smart. They also wanted Cheng to be found – they _wanted_ this." Chris was shaking with rage now. His head still swam with nausea, but his anger was making quick work of his dizziness. “Jihyo, can you check whether Cheng was absent from work the last few days?” The other Inspector nodded.

“I’ll get my Constables on it.” She murmured. “Anything else?”

“Get them to start checking security footage and collecting the tapes. See if any are missing. Get SOCOs to look for fingerprints on the lift and by the fire escape.” She nodded at his words. “We need to get started, and _now._ Before they get away again.”

“Do you think Hale and Cheng’s killers are the same person?” Han murmured. Chris bit down on his lip.

"I – I don’t know. It’s definitely a different MO.” Chris raked his hands through his hair, frustrated. “Look, I'm going to search the rest of the apartment." He gave Jisung’s hand one more squeeze before gently tugging his hand away, reaching into his pocket to pull some gloves on. 

"I'll come with you." Nayeon looked curious. "I heard about what you found at Hale's house. You seem to have a nose for things." Chris shrugged, quickly surveying the apartment. Every time his eyes met the gruesome scene in the middle of the room, he felt his stomach heave. Luckily there was nothing more to come up.

“Jisungie, start looking for a note.” He murmured into his Constable’s ear, before stepping away. He walked into the first room he found and fumbled around, trying to turn the light on. Soon the room was bathed in light. It looked like Cheng's bedroom. There was a calendar pinned up on the wall, covered in writing. The excessive punctuation and words written all in capitals gave off the impression that she had a bubbly and exuberant personality. There was a photo wall, all showing photos of the same young woman. In some photos she was with friends, in others she was with students. She had a brilliant smile and was quite pretty. She looked like someone who was well-liked, who fit in.

“I'm going to take a few photos.” He told Nayeon, getting out his phone. “If we find something, I don't want to wait around for forensics.” His mind was on the papers at Hale’s house.

“You're a man after my own heart, Chris.” Nayeon chuckled, pulling out her own phone. Chris headed over to the photo wall and began snapping photos of it. One of the images caught his eye – one of the edges had been folded back. Chris's eyes narrowed. His gaze flicked to other photos. Some of them had edges folded, some didn't. He plucked the photo off the wall – it was her with a group of students – and turned it over. A strangled noise left his throat at what he discovered. “Chris?” Nayeon, who had been examining the calendar, whirled around. “Chris, what is it?” Her voice hardened. But Chris was speechless.

Another image had been messily glued to the back of the photo of Cheng and her students.

“I –” He struggled to find the words.

“Inspector Smith, are you alright?”

“Not really.” He whispered. Within moments, Nayeon was at his side. 

“That's her.” Chris jabbed his finger at the image stuck to the back of the photograph. It was grainy, and blurry, but her smile was unmistakable. "It has to be." He thrust the photograph into Nayeon’s hands and began grabbing the photos with folded edges off the wall. Soon he was crouched on the ground, surrounded by the photos. He began flipping them over, one by one. Nayeon swore under her breath.

“Jihyo!” She called over her shoulder. Within moments, Chris heard footsteps. Jihyo burst into the room, eyes wide.

“Should I call Han?” She whispered, digging her nails into her hands.

“No, no, not yet.” Chris whispered, trying to hide how his hands were shaking, almost jarringly, from the shock. Some of the edges of the images were a little blurred, and others were dark, but some were incredibly well-defined. In all of the images, Cheng was constant. Each image showed a different man with her. In most, she was in various states of undress, and others were incredibly lewd.

Chris' head was swimming. This was too much to take in. He felt as if he was viewing something very private, something Cheng would have hidden with all her might. He thought of her body in the main room, then looked back at the images. He'd thought Hale's death had been brutal, but this...he rubbed at his eyes, feeling a headache building behind them. 

"Now, who do you suppose those men with her are?" Nayeon finally broke the silence. It was more of a statement than a question. Chris felt sick to his stomach as he took another glance at the photos. He recognised some of the men from the rest of the photos on the wall. Others, however, were familiar for an entirely different reason.

"They weren't just her students' fathers, which is what I first thought." He began slowly, voice soft. "That there...that's Thomas Nixon, a business tycoon." Nayeon crouched down next to him to get a better view of the images.

"You're right." She hissed, jabbing her finger at another image. "That's Edward White, a politician." She looked around at more of the images. "Deakin – another politician. Diuretz, Lakhotia, Sullivan – more high-profile businessmen." She got to his feet and drove her fist into her palm, cursing. "Chris, this is definitely the next one, it’s definitely related to the Hale case. It's just like how you found those damned documents. Neither Cheng nor her..." She paused. " _Friends_ took these photos. The photos weren't exactly well-hidden, either. SOCOs would have easily found them if we hadn’t. And the brutality of the murder –" She was smiling, but it was bitter. She shook her head. "We'll have to do another press release." She swore again, stalking out of the room. “One for both Hale and Cheng.”

Chris bit down hard on his lip, trying to slow down his breathing. They needed information, and they needed it _now._ He needed Jisung. He needed Minho.

“Chris, breathe.” Jihyo murmured, a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t even realised how shallow his inhalations were until she squeezed his shoulder. “I’m going to get Han, okay? Just wait here.” Chris nodded dumbly. With shaking fingers, he gathered up the photos, glancing around the room again. There were five photos left. It would be negligent not to check them. He plucked them off the wall and couldn't help but be relieved when there were no images hidden on the back. Instead, there were letters. Chris's brows drew together in confusion. He lay them out on the bed.

“ _L, S, T, U_.” He muttered. He glanced at the last photograph. There was a childish, crude drawing of a smiley face in the bottom right-hand corner. Chris felt nauseous. He dropped it onto the bed in disgust. “L, S, T, U.” He repeated, and began moving the pictures around. “L, U...” He paused. “Lust.” It'd been an L that had been branded onto Cheng. L for lust. His heart hammered against his chest. He gathered up all of the photos and burst out of the room. “I’ve got something!” He carefully avoided Cheng's body and raced into the hallway, almost bumping into Jisung.

“Chris?” Jihyo looked harried. Jisung wordlessly reached out and curled his fingers around his wrist. When his Constable saw how much he was trembling, Jisung intertwined their fingers, holding his hand tight.

“The _L_ on her body.” He began, trying to steady his voice. Nayeon nodded impatiently. “The leftover pictures – on the back they have letters on them. If you arrange them, they spell ‘lust.’” The three other Detectives froze. 

“Show me.” Nayeon demanded. Chris handed the photos with the hidden images to Jihyo, then passed the others to Nayeon. The Inspector put them in order and began flicking through them. 

“It's some sort of game for the killer.” Jihyo murmured. “Killing people...revealing their darkest secrets.” She was staring down at the images in her hands, face pale.

“At this point, we shouldn’t let anything go unnoticed.” Nayeon murmured, cracking her knuckles. “We should go pay the morgue another visit.” Jihyo nodded, then checked her watch. 

“Where are forensics?” She growled. “They should have been here by now.”

“Ji, be patient. It'll take them forever to transport all their equipment up here.” Nayeon squeezed Jihyo’s shoulder, her voice now soft. “I say we leave this to the SOCOs now. We've got what we need.” Jihyo nodded, relaxing at the other Inspector’s words. The SOCOs – scene of crime officers – would become in charge of controlling the scene, leaving the Detectives to start gathering leads and evidence.

“We’re going to go.” Jisung murmured. His eyes hadn’t left Chris’ face, and he looked worried. Chris hated to admit it, but he knew that this time, Jisung was right to feel concerned. He felt…floaty. He was seeing everything around him, but wasn’t able to focus on anything. He didn’t feel like himself.

“Good idea.” Jihyo gave them a small smile. “Get out of here.”

“We’ll see you at the station.” Fuck, even his voice didn’t feel like it belonged to him.

“No.” Han murmured gently. “If you need anything urgent, call, or come to Chris’s house.” Jisung’s voice was firm. Chris watched as he held Jihyo and Nayeon’s stares without flinching. Usually Jisung could be shy or nervous around those he didn’t know too well. He hated delegating and hated making decisions for others. But this time, he was unwavering. Jihyo and Nayeon merely nodded.

“And Changbin?” Jihyo asked carefully. Chris felt a stab of guilt. “Will he be at the station?”

“Let me worry about Changbin.” Jisung told her. “If you’ll excuse us, Inspectors.”

“You don’t look so well, Chris.” Nayeon frowned. “Alright, Han, that sounds good. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Got it.” Jisung slid an arm around his waist, clutching him tightly. He leaned heavily against Jisung, feeling more of the fog settling over his mind. “Come on, Chris.” Han murmured, gently beginning to lead him out of the apartment.

“Jisungie,” He whispered. He felt so small. He felt like he’d been wrapped in cotton wool – nothing felt quite _right._ He barely registered the carpet under his dragging feet. Even the bustle of the arriving SOCOs was lost on him, becoming ambient background noise. “Jisungie, I don’t feel anything.” He heard his voice begin to rise as panic stabbed through him. Jisung’s grip tightened even more, if that was possible.

“Shh, Chris.” His Constable’s voice was low and soothing. Jisung began carding his fingers through the Inspector’s hair, and Chris instinctively leaned into the touch. “Did you call Felix?” He heard Jisung murmuring.

“Yeah.” That was Hyunjin, he thought absentmindedly. Why was Hyunjin here? And why was _he_ here, again? Where even _was_ here? Suddenly his knees buckled, and he felt someone grab onto his arm, holding onto him tightly.

“What’s wrong with him?” Hyunjin’s voice was muffled, as if Chris was listening to him from underwater. “Han, is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine.” His Constable’s voice was oddly clipped. “Call Felix again, Seungmin. Hyunjin, take my phone, and get me Minho.”

“Minho?!” Hyunjin sounded incredulous. “But –”

“Just do it, Hyunjin.” A note of pleading had entered his Constable’s voice. Chris frowned. Jisung sounded upset. Why was he upset again?

“‘sungie?” His tongue felt almost too big for his mouth. “It’s okay.” But Jisung just clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Minho. I’m going to send you an address, and I don’t care how you get here, but you need to be here in ten minutes.” Jisung’s grip slacked around him for a moment, and Chris felt Hyunjin hoist him up, pulling the Inspector against his hip. “This one’s going to be bad, Minho, like _really_ bad. Yeah. I’m okay, I guess. Mhmm. Of course. Please, as soon as you can. Felix should be on his way, I had Hyunjin call him earlier. Yeah. Thanks, Minho, bye.”

Minho?

_“Minho.” His voice was ragged. He was going to die, he knew it. But he had to make sure Minho was okay. He had to –_

Chris choked on his breath.

“Chris?” Jisung sounded panicked. Something smashed into his knees. Chris flinched. Had someone kicked him in the kneecaps? Then he realised that his knees had collapsed and he’d fallen roughly to the ground, chin landing on his chest. “Hold on, Chris, Minho will be here soon.” Jisung sounded desperate. “Hold on for me, Chris, _please.”_

_“Minho.” He clawed desperately at the arms restraining him, dragging him away. “I want –”_

Chris wanted nothing more than to reach out and wrap his arms around his Constable, but he felt so heavy. So tired.

_“Minho!”_

Then he went under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> murder number 3...and i'm only at chapter 10. i hate to say this, but i think i might have to push up the chapter count just a little. or a lot. at this stage, i still don't know. 
> 
> i'm sorry for the binchan fight and the gore this chapter, it started off cute and then really spiralled quite quick, but i hope that you liked it regardless. 
> 
> i hope it's not going to slowly for you!!! i don't really know if the story feels like it was stagnating, but the next bit of action is kicking in and we'll be after the culprit again. expect some new faces soon!! 
> 
> i haven't got as much to say today haha, other than THANK YOU. i have loved reading your comments and replying to them with all of my heart and to those who are repeat commenters, i appreciate you so much and you have given me so much motivation for this project. 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it, and i'll see you next saturday! until then, take care   
> \- c


	11. Reminiscence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No one ever called me that apart from him. My Chan.”

_[Thinking or telling about past experiences.]_

_[I can definitely see it, I can see it_

_The bright side of you the way I used to know.]_

**Friday, morning**

“Fucking _shit.”_ Changbin threw himself into the driver’s seat of his car and slammed the door shut behind him, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. He hated fighting with Chris. He loathed it. They were both too stubborn and set in their own beliefs to accommodate each other sometimes. They also had a martyr complex when it came to each other, and Changbin knew that all too well. He wanted to look out for Chris, to not feel like a burden. But Chris felt like he had to do everything himself, even if it meant shutting Changbin out.

Changbin was sick of it. And with the new information Han had given him…it gave him actual cause for concern. He’d been so close to revealing the truth to Chris, just to prove his point, and that had scared him. it wasn’t like him to play dirty in a fight. He preferred to win fair and square. He was done, though, with trying to help Chris, only to get it thrown back in his face.

He couldn’t bring himself to go back to the crime scene. Surely with Jihyo and Nayeon _and_ Han there, everything would be okay. Surely. He turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb. He’d go back to the station and go over Bloodstone’s interrogation, then he’d go and get Doctor Son’s preliminary report, one that she would have written up from the crime scene. He at least had to get the case moving.

Then his phone started ringing. Changbin felt his pulse spike. For some reason, he knew exactly who would be calling. With a quick glance in his rear view mirror, he pulled over. He fumbled with his keys as he tried to get the car to stop.

“Breathe.” He told him. “It’ll be okay.” He dug in his pocket for his phone, and his stomach sank as he looked at the caller ID. _Squirrel Constable._ “Fuck, what now?” Changbin muttered, as he answered. “Hannie, what’s up?”

“Binnie,” Han was whimpering – _whimpering,_ there was no other way to describe it. He sounded like he was on the verge of hysterics, and was barely able to contain it.

“Exactly what I thought was going to happen.” Changbin couldn’t help but hiss under his breath.

“W-what?” Han sniffled, and Changbin swore under his breath. He forced himself to inhale deeply, and slowly. He shoved his hurt to the side. He couldn’t even bring himself to think _‘ha, told you so.’_

“What happened?” Changbin began massaging his temples, where a fierce headache was threatening to brew.

“It’s more fucked than we think, Changbin, and – and Chris, _Chris, fuck,_ he isn’t – he’s out of it and I don’t know what to do, because you’re always here.” Changbin bit his lip as he was hit with a wave of guilt. Yes, he’d been pissed, and rightfully so. Yes, he had a right to walk away from the crime scene if it was too much for him, but that hadn’t been it at all. He’d just wanted to one up Chris. To prove the Inspector wrong. To make him stumble and fall, so he’d come crawling back to Changbin with apologies, saying something like _‘I’m sorry, you were so right.’_

Changbin leaned his head against the steering wheel and clenched his jaw. He’d been ranting to Chris about how the Inspector had been acting immature and here he was, acting the exact same. He didn’t even have a high ground to begin with. He’d just been clutching at straws, pissed off and having to take care of Chris, when the Inspector refused his aid at every turn.

“Talk to me about Chris.” Changbin closed his eyes, curling his hand into a fist. “The SOCOs can fill me in on the case.”

“Jihyo and Nayeon are here still, and so are Seungmin and Hyunjin.” Changbin just nodded, before remembering that Han couldn’t see him.

“That’s fine then, I can just get the info from them. Tell them to meet me at the station.” Changbin forced himself to relax his jaw. “Or do you need me for Chris?”

“N-no, Minho’s on his way.” This surprised Changbin. “Oh?” He murmured. “Oh really?” _‘Interesting.’_ He thought. Han had absolutely hated Minho’s guts for the past few days. Now, it seemed, he was starting to open up to Minho, and begrudgingly rely on him. Changbin hadn’t wavered on his stance towards Minho – he’d trust him with Chris, but not anyone else, and still didn’t really like him. “He said he knows what to do, but I…I’m not used to helping without you here.”

“Han.” Changbin squeezed the steering wheel and ran his tongue over his top lip. “I’m going to ask you something important, and I need you to answer me honestly.”

“Okay.” Han shot back instantly.

“Do you trust Minho with Chris?” Han inhaled sharply. “Han. Listen to me.” Changbin tried to keep his voice from wavering. “We need to find out who is behind this, and _now._ Otherwise…otherwise…” His voice started to shake, and he roughly cleared his throat. “If you trust Minho to help Chris, I’ll go and start looking for leads. We need to get this case moving, it’s getting cold already. We’ve still got Hale’s killer out there. And…and if what you said before is right, then we need to close this case.”

“You’re right.” Han whispered. “I do trust Minho. Not with us, but definitely with Chris.”

“It’ll be okay.” Changbin murmured. “I promise. He’s come back from episodes like this. Trust me on this.”

“I trust you.” Han’s voice was shaky, and it made Changbin feel even worse.

“You can do this.” Changbin told him, forcing his voice to hold steady. “You’re in 3Racha. There’s no way you haven’t got this.”

“Shut up.” Han shot back, and Changbin felt his lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. “I’ve got this because I’ve got you.” Suddenly shy, Changbin fully smiled this time.

“Go.” Changbin muttered. “Come on, shoo. This trusty Sergeant has important shit to do.”

“Yessir.” Han’s voice sounded a little stronger. “I’ll keep you posted.” With that, Changbin ended the call. Now he just felt worse. He wished he was there, with his team. If he was there…fuck. He would drag Han into his arms, squeezing him tightly, then would kneel down, murmuring to Chris. In an ideal world, Chris would wake up and apologise and Changbin would apologise back and then they’d hug and Chris would say something dumb, and Changbin would smack his shoulder and laugh.

His heart twisted. His chest physically _ached._ But he didn’t have anyone to lean on. And he couldn’t falter. After this was all over, then he knew he could go to Chris and unload, and his Inspector would be there for him. But right now, he was lonely. He felt like an alien, not knowing how to navigate the mess of Chris’ past and the culprits behind the murder. He didn’t know how to take another step. He didn’t know that if he _did_ take another step if it would be in the right direction, or if it would take him down a dead end.

And now, he had no choice but to trust Minho. And the terrifying thing was, this time Changbin would be trusting the older man with not just one, but both of his partners. In Minho’s hands rested Changbin’s whole world.

Changbin just hoped he was making the right decision.

✧✧✧

**Friday, afternoon**

“– so to recap, gunshot wounds, large laceration to the abdomen and throat, signs of previous restraint…I’d pin time of death as about two this morning. Definitely blood loss, and that neck wound, would’ve been the cause.” Doctor Chaeyoung Son, the pathologist – or Chae, as Jihyo cheerfully referred to her as – flipped her notebook shut. “Oh, and toxicology came back for Hale. I specifically checked for sodium thiopental –”

“Truth serum, right?” Changbin muttered, and she nodded.

“It's positive, by the way. But it’s bullshit for that purpose.” She snorted. “It’s been banned in most places, but can be used for lethal injections. It was previously used as an anesthetic and for medically-induced comas. Very rapid-acting.”

“Time frame?” Changbin’s eyes flicked over to Hyunjin, who’s jaw was hanging open.

“We’re talking thirty seconds for full unconsciousness.”

“Holy shit.” Hyunjin breathed.

“Usually, though, it only lasts about five to ten minutes.” Chaeyoung ran a hand through her short blonde hair, and sighed. “She definitely wasn’t given an overdose. It was likely just given to her before they could kill her.” Changbin felt his skin crawl.

“Why not give her a lethal dose, then? Surely that would be easier?” Changbin mused, and Chaeyoung nodded.

“Exactly. But there’s a couple of scratches on her, and signs she was restrained – there were a few marks on her wrists.” Chaeyoung watched his face carefully. “Take from that what you will.”

“Anything else?” She shook her head, and Changbin just nodded.

“Thanks for this.”

“Your cases are high priority.” She murmured. “Trust me, they’ll be the first thing I deal with.” The glint in her eyes made him wonder if Jihyo had mentioned something to her. Changbin nudged Hyunjin. Giving Chaeyoung a wave, he trudged out of the morgue with Hyunjin on his heels. The Constable was strangely silent for a moment.

“What’s on your mind?” Changbin murmured.

“Just that…there was a struggle, even though they knocked her out.” Hyunjin whispered, glancing around to see if anyone was listening. “So…it’s almost like they just wanted to restrain her, get her really defenseless, _then_ kill her, when she woke up.”

“Exactly my thoughts.” Changbin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like you have a point you’re trying to make here, though. What is it?”

“They kept her alive just long enough so that she could suffer.” Hyunjin’s voice broke, and Changbin stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to see Hyunjin with his face buried in his hands, and Changbin’s own heart began to ache. He remembered his very first murder case, one that he had actually been responsible for. One that had meant that he’d been given responsibility to find justice for someone’s life.

“Hey, _hey.”_ Changbin clapped a hand onto Hyunjin’s shoulder and squeezed tight. To his surprise, Hyunjin leaned into his hold. Awkwardly, Changbin wrapped an arm around Hyunjin’s shoulders, and the Constable practically melted in his hold, collapsing against his chest. Changbin stood frozen for a moment, before mentally kicking himself. _‘Get it together, idiot, he just needs a hug.’_ Changbin gingerly lifted up his other hand to pull Hyunjin against him, and Hyunjin pressed closer. Changbin could feel the warmth radiating off of Hyunjin’s skin. His jacket felt a bit itchy and uncomfortably wet now, soaked with Hyunjin’s tears.

“I-I-I’m sorry.” Hyunjin sobbed into his shoulder, and Changbin’s heart cracked just that little bit more.

“It’s okay.” Changbin sighed. “I promise, Hyunjin, it’s okay.”

“Y-y-you called me Hyunjin.” The Constable sniffled. “Not Hwang.” Changbin flushed at this.

“I’ll call you Hyunjin from now on, then.” Changbin muttered, feeling incredibly awkward. Hyunjin pulled back from him for a moment, staring down at him with wide eyes.

“Y-you mean it?” Hyunjin’s tears were still overflowing, but he didn’t look sad anymore, just surprised.

“Um, yes?” Changbin tried not to look too perplexed. “Is that…okay?” Hyunjin nodded furiously. Changbin shook his head in disbelief. _‘Strange kid.’_ When Hyunjin made no effort to dash his tears away, Changbin dug in his pocket for his trusty bag of tissues. Working with Han and Chris meant he always carried a pack with him. “Here.” Changbin watched as Hyunjin just blinked at him, and shook his head. “Brat.” Changbin muttered, pulling out a tissue. He began to carefully dab at the tears on Hyunjin’s face. Hyunjin went very still, and Changbin allowed himself to sigh. “I can’t believe I was so wrong about you.”

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin whispered.

“I thought you were a bit of a dick, but you’re actually just a big baby.” Changbin felt his lips twitch into a smile.

“I’m sorry if I came across like an asshole.” Hyunjin winced. “I just…” Hyunjin sighed, pointing at his hair. “Y’know, like…I’m skinny, have long hair, everyone calls me ‘pretty.’” Hyunjin pursed his lips together. “So I feel like I have to act tough, so people will take me seriously.”

“Not everyone.” Changbin told him. “Just actual dickheads. I would’ve liked you so much more if you’d just been yourself.” At this, Hyunjin’s eyes widened. “You _are_ pretty, yes, but you’re also smart. You’ve been able to cope pretty well with this whole mess so far.” Hyunjin, whose cheeks were pink, scoffed at his words, but Changbin held up a hand. “Listen, you haven’t had a breakdown. You’re just upset, which I would expect.” He gave Hyunjin a small smile. “You’re doing okay, Constable.” Hyunjin began frowning, and Changbin rolled his eyes. _“Hyunjin._ You’re doing just fine.”

“If you say so.” Hyunjin finally rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, and Changbin tutted, grabbing a hold of his arms.

“You’ll hurt your eyes, you know.” Changbin shoved the tissues at him. “Here. Take these.” Changbin dug his hands into his pockets and spun sharply on his heel, continuing towards the stairs.

“You’re really sweet, you know.” Hyunjin called as he hurried after the Sergeant, and Changbin froze in his tracks.

 _“S-sweet?!”_ He spluttered. Hyunjin giggled, a high-pitched, light thing, that made Changbin’s stomach twist.

“You’re like me.” Hyunjin sounded downright gleeful, and Changbin tried to speed walk to the stairs before Hyunjin could keep going. “You try to act tough, but really, you’re not.”

“You don’t know me.” Changbin grumbled, but Hyunjin just giggled again.

“I think I get you now, Sergeant.”

“Changbin.” The Sergeant began to climb the stairs, wishing that he had his ball cap so that he could pull it down over his eyes to hide his embarrassment. “It’s only fair.” He added, before Hyunjin could comment on it.

“Thanks.” Hyunjin sounded elated. “See what I mean? A big softie.”

“Shut up and tell me about the case, or I’ll go and ask Seungmin.” Changbin shot back. Then he realized what he’d just said. “Only if you’re up for it.” Hyunjin, who was now at his elbow, patted his shoulder.

“I’m okay now.” The Constable murmured. “Okay, so. Cheng’s mother was the one to find her. As we know, she’d been missing from work for a few days. Just like Hale. We’ve started identifying the men in the photos with her, but…”

“We’ll be able to talk to them if we promise to keep this from the press.” Changbin added. “As much as I hate the media, at least we can use them as a bargaining chip.” Changbin shoved open the door to the homicide department and headed to Chris’ office. He paused at the door, biting down on his bottom lip. Not wanting Hyunjin to read into it, he forced himself to stride inside with his shoulders pushed back. He could do this. He could do this without thinking about Han sobbing with Chris in his arms, Chris moaning and crying and begging for help.

“You okay?” Hyunjin’s voice was soft.

“Yep.” Changbin kept his voice short and clipped, and Hyunjin stiffened. Changbin shoved his feelings aside and headed to the whiteboard. He could cheer Hyunjin up later. “What do we know so far that are common threads, Hyunjin?”

“Sodium thiopental. They’re not seen for a couple of days before they’re found dead. They’re guilty of some crime. Drug pushing, money laundering…” Hyunjin frowned. “Adultery isn’t a crime, though.”

“Maybe she’s getting something out of them.” Changbin murmured. “Maybe they’re paying her.”

“Embezzlement, maybe?” Hyunjin tapped his chin in thought.

“Could be.” Changbin frowned.

“I feel like there’s something deeper going on.” Hyunjin added, and the Sergeant nodded.

“Gangs are involved somehow. They helped Tailor push his drugs, they would’ve been able to get the thiopental, they’ve probably been fucked over by whoever Cheng was sleeping with.” Changbin crossed his arms over his chest. “They’re locating victims on the Southside, so that they can be close to –” Changbin froze. _Fuck,_ he’d almost given it away! He bit down on his bottom lip. “Close to the warehouses. That’s got to be where they’re hiding.”

“You reckon we conduct a raid?” Changbin turned to see that Hyunjin’s eyes were wide. Changbin smirked, noting the way that Hyunjin gulped.

“For sure.” Changbin rubbed his hands together. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. “Come in.” The Sergeant called. The door opened to reveal Seungmin, whose jaw was clenched.

“Sorry, Sergeant – Hyunjin?” Seungmin gaped at his friend for a moment, and Hyunjin waved sheepishly. “Um, Sergeant Seo – Hale’s mother is here.” Changbin stiffened.

“Send her in.” Seungmin murmured to someone outside of the office, and reappeared with a frail lady clutching onto his arm.

“This is Sarah Hale.” The Constable murmured.

“Here, ma’am, have a seat.” Changbin gave her a soft smile, and she sank into the chair in front of the desk. “Tea?” He offered, and she nodded shakily. Changbin glanced at Seungmin, who nodded. The Constable cast a quick glance at Hyunjin, who shrugged at him. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

“Have you found who did this to my daughter?” Hale’s mother had a high, breathy voice. Right now it was trembling, full of emotion.

“No, ma’am.” Changbin winced.

“Do you have any leads?” She whispered, and Changbin bowed his head.

“Not unless you can think of anyone who would do this to her, ma’am.” She flinched as if he’d struck her, eyes flashing with a sudden burst of anger.

“My daughter didn’t do anything to deserve this! She was a good girl, a good daughter! She…she didn’t deserve this.” She dissolved into sobs, burying her head in her hands. Changbin glanced at Hyunjin. The Constable’s eyes were shining with tears, and Changbin offered him a small smile.

“I didn’t say that, ma’am.” Changbin soothed. God, how he wished Chris was here. Chris would know what to do. “We’re just trying to figure out if it was a stranger, like we suspect.”

“I saw in the news…Rupert Tailor, and this morning…” Hale’s mother clenched her hands into fists. “They’re all on the Southside, from around here! There’s a killer on the loose, isn’t there?”

“We don’t know that, ma’am, as Tailor’s killer is currently in custody.” Changbin knew he had the tact of a doornail from the way Hyunjin was eyeing him.

“Well, you should hurry up and find my daughter’s killer.” Hale’s mother snapped, and Changbin pursed his lips together. And it’s so, so horrible, that poor Millie…Millie had to find her like that.” Her voice rose in pitch, until she sounded like she was on the verge of hysterics. “Such a sweet girl.”

“She’s doing okay.” Hyunjin cut in, offering Hale’s mother a sweet smile. “I spoke to her not too long ago.” She suddenly relaxed, his gentle tone and kind eyes clearly offering her some reassurance.

“Th-they’ve been friends since high school, you see.” Hale’s mother murmured. “Lara, she…she lived overseas for a while. She lived with her father – he’s Korean – for three years, in middle school.” Changbin’s ears perked up at this. He glanced at Hyunjin, to see that the Constable had frozen in place. “So she didn’t have any friends when she moved here, you see. Millie was her best friend. They even went back to Korea – Millie had never been, and their other friend was from China, so they stayed in China for a few weeks too.”

“What was this friend’s name?” Changbin pressed, and Hale’s mother hiccupped as she closed her eyes, losing herself in her thoughts.

“Oh, something foreign.” Changbin tried to ignore how his eye twitched at this. “Lovely girl. So pretty, and very charming.” Hale’s mother frowned. “Hua…that was it. Hua…Cheng.” She brightened at this, but faltered at Changbin’s stricken expression. “She isn’t involved, is she? She didn’t do anything to Lara, did she?” Changbin tried to answer her, but his words became stuck in his throat.

“No, ma’am.” Hyunjin murmured, placing a hand on Changbin’s shoulder. Hyunjin gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but Changbin was already shoving himself to his feet. _‘We’re going to need backup.’_ He thought, clenching his hands into fists. Hyunjin glanced down at him for a moment, expression unreadable. Then, he sighed. “No, she’s dead.”

**Friday, night**

Han kept his eyes stubbornly screwed shut. He knew that if he opened his eyes, he’d be bawling. Chris had been lost in the midst of his flashbacks for hours now, mumbling and yelling and talking, random nonsense that made no sense to Han. But clearly, Minho recognised every word.

Sometimes, it had made Minho chuckle, or smile stiffly. But most of the things his Inspector said had had Minho curling up into a ball, crying softly into his knees. Han had felt useless. He’d kept checking his Inspector’s temperature and fetching damp cloths, eyeing Minho sadly.

When Minho’s tears had stopped, he had looked like he didn’t really know what to do with himself. But then he’d inhaled deeply, taking Chris’ hands in both of his and had seemed to completely relax. He’d sent Han to fetch scented soap and a large, soft scarf. Han had recognised it as he had been the one to get it for Chris, on his Inspector’s birthday. It was the first year that they’d become partners. Unlike most of Chris’ other belongings, the scarf, while well-worn, was immaculate. It had a hanger all of its own, and Han hadn’t been able to wipe the smile off of his face. Chris – clumsy, forgetful, messy Chris – had clearly cherished the gift for the past five years.

Minho was now crooning sweetly in Korean against Chris’ skin, clutching the Detective’s hands in both of us once more. Han felt almost like he was intruding onto something private, far too intimate for him to even begin to understand. His skin prickled with envy. Han placed the soap by Chris’ head, as Minho had previously instructed.

 _“No! No!”_ Han flinched as a fresh wave of tortured whimpers started falling from his Inspector’s lips.

“Chris…” He whispered, looking helplessly at Minho. The older man began gently squeezing the Detective’s hands again. Minho glanced over at him. For once, he wasn’t glaring, and his expression was open. There was tension around Minho’s eyes, and his lips were pursed into a thin, straight line. But Han knew he was likely wearing the same expression. “Should I call Changbin? He knows what to do when Chris…” Minho just shook his head. 

“I’m here, I know what I’m doing.” Minho murmured. “Han, you need to start touching him.” Minho commanded imperiously. “It’ll help ground him a little.” Han just stared at him for a moment, and Minho clicked his tongue, impatient. “It helps – trust me, Han, it helps.” Han felt as if his feet had been glued to the floor. Hearing Chris sound so terrified, and so in pain, made his head swim. Minho’s gaze softened as Han continued to stare blankly at him. “Jisung.” He blinked rapidly for a moment. “It’ll be okay.” For some reason, Minho’s soft words began to soothe his clamouring heart. Minho’s low tone and smooth voice felt like a balm over the dull pain sitting at the bottom of his ribs, and Han felt some of the tension begin to leave his body.

“But it’s been hours now.” Han began wringing his hands.

“The last one that was similar…” Minho sighed, now beginning to rub Chris’ arms. “He was out of it for a week.” Han’s eyes widened in horror. “He’ll be okay. Now, come here. If he wakes up properly, he’ll want you here.” Han nodded wordlessly, carefully sitting down next to his Inspector and gently holding Chris’ hand in both of his. He began rubbing soft circles onto Chris’ palm, and Minho nodded, offering him an encouraging smile. “That’s it.” Minho then began murmuring into Chris’ ear. To Han’s relief, Chris’ pained cries trailed off into soft sighs. “There, see?” Minho breathed. “He’s gone under again. He’s okay.” Han bit down hard on his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “He’s okay.” Minho murmured again. “I promise.” Han nodded shakily, and Minho released a long breath.

Minho carded his hand through Chris’ hair. He was looking at Chris so intensely, so passionately, and Han felt like he should have looked away. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Seeing the two men tangled together, seeing the sheer _love_ in Minho’s eyes, made Han feel peaceful. Strangely, it…it made sense. It was like several puzzle pieces clicking together. All of his earlier jealousy towards Minho now seemed so petty and stupid. In comparison, he now just felt relieved. It was…nice, in an odd way, to see Chris treasured by someone else in the same way as Han. He felt less alone. He wondered why he’d acted so hostile, when the two of them probably could have become allies a lot sooner.

“Have you eaten?” There was that soft tone again, the one that Minho seemed to reserve for his partners and Chris. Han suddenly felt shy at being included in the small handful of people that were able to witness such a gentle expression on Minho’s face. Han glanced down at his hands, still clutching onto his Inspector’s, and shook his head. Minho’s shoulders drooped, and he nodded, seeming satisfied. “Come on, then. He should be okay for a good half an hour now.”

“I can’t leave him.” Han blurted out. Minho gingerly sat up, carefully disentangling himself from Chris before getting to his feet.

“You need to eat, Jisung.” Minho was looking at him now, _really_ looking, eyes fixed on Han’s own. Minho looked as if he was searching for something – hostility, maybe? Distrust? Fear? Han instinctively crossed his arms over his chest, hating how vulnerable he felt. “Come on, I’ll even cook you something if there’s nothing you want in the fridge.” When Han didn’t budge, Minho was by his side in moments, frowning again. “Trust me on this, okay? It seems like the cycle hasn’t changed. He’ll be okay for now.” He fixed his gaze with Han’s. “Plus, we need to get food ready for when he wakes up. He’s going to need it.”

“I’m just –”

“Scared?” Minho offered, and Han nodded. To his shock, Minho held out his hand, the edge of his lips pulling up at the corners. Was Minho… _smiling?_ Han’s breath caught in his throat. Han couldn’t help but think about when he’d heard Minho laugh, or when he was openly smiling at Chris. His smile was so big and infectious and _angelic,_ and his laughter made some weird, warm emotion filling up his chest. It was a stark contrast to how he’d been feeling the last few hours, having to jump between fear and grief and anger. Suddenly feeling like a positive emotion made Han feel overwhelmed. He felt his eyes begin to burn, and bit down on his lip again. “Constable.” Han blinked a few times, eyes widening when Minho’s hand landed on his shoulder. “It’s okay.” When Han stayed put, Minho sighed. “If he wakes up and starts worrying about you, we’ll get nowhere.”

“Okay.” Han sighed, reaching up and grabbing onto Minho’s hand. His own was clammy and still trembling a little, but Minho’s grasp was warm and solid. He inhaled deeply, feeling his shoulders begin to relax. Minho was giving him a kind smile.

“Better?”

“Yeah.” He murmured. “Um, I just – Minho, why – why are you being so nice to me?” At this, Minho clicked his tongue.

“I thought we were on the same page, Han.” Minho was frowning.

“What do you mean?” Han’s brow creased in confusion.

“Us.” Minho wasn’t teasing, now. He just looked thoughtful. “I’m not going to kick you when you’re down, and…when I’m not being defensive – which I know I can be a lot – I _can_ be nice.” At this, Han just blinked at him for a moment. He realised that Minho was exactly like a cat. Soft and cuddly when comfortable, but equipped with sharp fangs and teeth. Cats didn’t often like strangers and were protective of their owners. They were two-faced, and proud. The comparison made _so much sense_ that Han felt laughter bubble up in his throat. “What?” Minho’s frown was back. “What was so funny?”

“N-nothing.” Han whispered, desperately trying to keep himself quiet. “I think I’ve just figured you out.” Minho eyed him suspiciously, his top lip curling.

“Better not be anything weird.” Minho muttered under his breath. He gave the Constable’s hand a tug, dragging him towards the bedroom door. “Come on, Han.”

“You’re sure?” He murmured, casting one last glance at Chris’ sleeping form.

“Certain.” Minho replied, no hesitation in his voice. Han finally allowed himself to fall into step behind Minho.

“I didn’t peg you as a chef.” Han mused, once Minho had pulled him into the kitchen.

“Please, you think that man has _ever_ been able to cook?” Minho snorted. “I don’t know how he’s survived this long.”

“Changbin.” Han blurted out. “And me. We’re always feeding him.” Minho smirked at this.

“I’m glad some things haven’t changed.” Minho began rummaging through the fridge. “I forgot we ate here yesterday.” Minho frowned. “I’ll ask Felix to run to the store for me.”

“Where are your partners, anyway?” Han murmured.

“Jeongin’s scanning in the photos for me.”

“That’s official evidence!” Han exclaimed, and Minho tutted.

“When will you accept that you need our help?” Minho sighed. “Besides, Project Argus has intel from our teams in both South Korea and London – CID is going in half-blind.” Han glared at his feet, knowing that Minho was right.

“How – how are you even accessing the records, away?” Han crossed his arms over his chest.

“Seungmin.” Minho hummed, pulling some beef stock out from the fridge. Han just blinked at him.

“Seungmin? Jihyo’s Constable?” Minho nodded, and Han felt himself grow even more confused. “But why didn’t he go through Jihyo?” At this, Minho laughed.

“Oh, Han. I forget how little you all know. Seungmin was never on your side.” Han stared at him for a moment, before his jaw dropped.

“No fucking way. He’s on Project Argus, isn’t he?” Minho seemed pleased at his revelation and nodded.

“As is Dr. Son and Inspector Bhuwakul.”

“Our pathologist?” Jisung gaped at him for a moment. “And _BamBam?”_ Han shook his head in disbelief. “They were so close; I would never have thought it was an act…” Minho’s eyes were sharp.

“Who?”

“BamBam and Chris.” Han explained. “They went to the academy together and were partners until BamBam got transferred.” Han knew that the way his stomach was twisting had nothing to do with anger. “They were…um, _close,_ if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, really?” There was a muscle jumping in Minho’s jaw. “He never told me.”

“Why did he transfer, anyway?” Han decided he had to steer the conversation away from his Inspector’s first love – well, in London, at least – before Minho cracked all of his molars. If anything, Han actually felt a little gleeful. Changbin had used to find it absolutely hilarious at how Han would turn green with envy every time BamBam had come to Chris’ office for lunch or to hang out. Every time the two would go for dinner, or BamBam would call Chris just to ‘chat’ – which ended up being hour-long conversations, sometimes! – Changbin would tease the absolute bejesus out of him. Han still nursed a sore spot over it. He couldn’t deny that he’d almost thrown a party when BamBam had gotten transferred. It was almost a giant _‘fuck you’_ to Changbin, that Han wasn’t alone in his jealousy. Suddenly guilt stabbed at him.

Changbin had texted Han to say he’d be going back to the station to clear up some of the Bloodstone paperwork and to follow up on leads. His message had been abrupt, absent of the normal emoticons and laughter that their chats normally sported. And now, when Han had quickly sent Changbin a message updating the Sergeant on Chris, Changbin had merely replied with ‘I thought so. Busy. Gotta go.’ Han knew that he’d have to get to the bottom of Changbin’s strange behaviour sooner rather than later, but for now, Chris was his priority.

 _Fuck,_ who was he kidding? Chris was _always_ his priority. 

“We needed Bhuwakul to start looking around London more. He couldn’t do that if he was still stationed with Chan. And by that point, there’d been no sign of his attackers for years. BamBam’s presence just wasn’t necessary anymore.” Minho closed the fridge door with a little more force than necessary. “Luckily.” Minho hissed.

“You’re like a cat whose owner stopped giving them a head pat.” Han scoffed, and Minho shot him a glare.

“Please, as if you’re any better. I bet you were super jealous.” _There_ was that trademark smirk, the one that let Han know that Minho had one-upped him. Han rolled his eyes and jutted his bottom lip out as he spouted.

“I hid it better than you have.” Han grumbled, and Minho had the nerve to snort in disbelief.

“Oh, really? You, controlling yourself? What planet are you from?”

“Mars, clearly!” Han locked eyes with Minho, and the two men paused. Then, Han started laughing. It didn’t take long before Minho also dissolved into giggles. Han couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Finally, Minho sighed, his lips curled upwards in a small smile. He tilted his head to one side, looking thoughtful.

“Han, how old are you?” Han started at this.

“Oh, um, twenty-seven, why?”

“You’re the same age as Felix. I’m twenty-nine.” Minho murmured, almost to himself. Han didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such a relaxed demeanour from Minho. All he knew was that he didn’t want it to disappear. “Do you like japchae?”

“Yeah, of course.” Han watched Minho curiously. “My mum used to make it for me all the time.”

“Let hyung make it for you, then.” There was that soft smile again. Han felt a smile tug at his lips. All of a sudden, he felt shy again, and bit down on his bottom lip.

“Do you want me to call you hyung?” Minho’s smile seemed to widen.

“It’s up to you. We’re not in South Korea, so I don’t mind. You don’t have to!” Minho then seemed to get a little flustered, and a tiny frown appeared on his face. Han waved his hands wildly.

“No, no, I don’t mind at all! I just wanted to check.” He grinned at Minho. “I – I like it, to be honest.” After a pause, he ducked his head. “Thank you, for, um, letting me call you hyung. I-I know that it’s, um, a big deal for you.” For a moment, Minho stared at him, eyes widening. Then Minho reached out and ruffled his hair.

“Don’t mention it.” Han would never tell Minho, of course, but he liked the feeling of Minho’s fingers carding through his hair almost as much as he liked Chris doing it. “Now! Food. I’ll get Felix right on it.” Minho hummed as he began typing out a message on his phone. “Go to him. Let me worry about this.” Minho murmured, without looking up. “Just don’t wake him up, okay? Be gentle.” Han felt as if Minho was talking to a small child before handing them a kitten for the first time.

“I’m not an idiot.” The Constable grumbled.

“Oh, dear, I had no idea you were quite that oblivious.” Minho smirked down at his phone before quickly glancing at Han from the corner of his eye. Han glared at him for a moment before sticking his tongue out.

“Whatever.”

“Do you want food or not?” Minho looked up, this time, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, _hyung._ ” Han smirked at him, triumphant. But Minho just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t push your luck, brat.”

“I’m not a brat.”

“‘I’m not a brat, _hyung.’_ ” Minho shot back, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “You so _are_ a brat. Now shoo!” As Han danced out of the room, he could have sworn that Minho was smiling. His footsteps slowed as he neared his Inspector’s room. All of the anxieties he’d pushed away came rushing back. He paused outside the door. His hand hovered over the doorknob. He let it drop to his side. He couldn’t do it. That thought alone hurt. He jolted at the sound of a hoarse yell that twisted into a cry of pain. Han froze, his eyes widening. Within seconds, he heard footsteps pounding towards him.

“Minho,” Han whispered, as the older man reached his side. Minho shot him a look of sympathy before throwing the door open.

“I’m sorry, I thought we had more time.” Minho muttered, patting his shoulder before rushing past him. Han’s eyes landed on a wild-eyed Chan, whose chest was heaving. Minho threw himself onto the bed, latching onto the Detective’s wrists. Han felt useless as he stood stock-still, watching as Minho used his knees to secure the lower half of his body. “Chan,” Minho kept his tone firm. “Channie, listen to me.” The heaving breaths slowed to a gentle wheezing, and Minho relaxed his grip. That had to be a good sign, right? Chris’ face was marred with agony, and he looked like was on the verge of passing out again. Han felt a whimper bubble up in his throat. Chris shouldn't be moving so violently, not in his condition. Han wished there was something, _anything,_ that he could do. “Channie, you're safe.” Minho’s voice lowered, becoming soothing.

"Minho?" The way his name left Chris’ lips, shaky and filled with fear, filled Han with anger. Han didn’t really consider himself a violent person, but if he ever met the assholes who had done this to his Inspector…well, they’d already secured their own deaths. “Minho, Min-ah, it hurts.” The strangled whimper that left Chris turned Han’s stomach. What if Chris started reliving his abduction? Han knew that it was a very real possibility, and from the bits and pieces that Minho had mentioned, Han knew that it would leave Chris fucked up for days, if not weeks. Chris was clutching onto Minho like he was a lifeline. “Why won’t they stop?” Minho gently shifted his hands from his friend's quivering shoulders to face, cupping his cheeks.

“They have stopped. You're safe now, Channie-hyung, I won't let anything happen to you.” Han’s heart ached as Minho’s voice began to crack. Han took a step closer, desperately willing Minho to look at him.

“Stay, Minnie, stay.” Chris’ desperate hands fumbled in Minho’s shirt, clutching desperately at Minho’s shoulders.

Minho froze.

Han felt his heart clench and begin to beat faster.

“No one ever called me that apart from _him_.” Minho choked out. He turned his head towards Han, eyes wide. Minho searched Han’s face, as if looking for comfort. _“My_ Chan.” Minho’s eyes were gleaming with unshed tears.

“Are his memories coming back?” Han whispered. He could only watch, dumfounded, as Chris began clinging to Minho, whispering the nickname over and over, whispering in _Korean._ A strangled sob left Minho’s throat. Minho drew Chris closer, gripping him by the shoulders, a hand in his matted hair, a stream of mumbled apologies and _Channie, Channie, Channie,_ tumbling from his lips. Han watched as his Inspector slackened against Minho, going limp. “Minho –” Minho drew back, carefully supporting Chris’ neck and back.

“He’s gone again.” Minho whispered. Han pretended he didn’t see the tear rolling down Minho’s face. No doubt the emotional stress and pain had sent his body into shutdown. Han felt his own eyes begin to burn, and furiously dashed away the beginnings of his own tears, to get a grip on himself. It didn't matter. It _couldn't_ matter. He had to remain strong, for Chris’ sake, if not his own. He wanted to stay. He wanted to just lie there beside Chris, to be there when he woke up again, to comfort him, to _hold_ him. But that was a luxury he couldn't afford. Han turned away.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s okay.” Minho breathed. “Han, I mean it. You have nothing to be sorry about. You did so well.” Han felt his chest tighten. Minho’s voice was so full of gratitude, and his eyes were so full of pain yet so _warm,_ and it made Han want to cry purely out of the sudden rush of empathy he had for the other man.

“I’m sorry for being such a dick to you.” Han sniffled, and Minho’s expression crumpled.

“Oh, Jisung – I – fuck, what?” Minho turned back to Chris, freezing. “I think he’s coming back ‘round again already.” Minho muttered, and Han looked over his shoulder to see that Chris’ body had stiffened again. His Inspector’s hands were clenching and unclenching. Then Chris began muttering again, and Minho’s eyes widened. 

_“I love you too, Minho.”_ Chris breathed.

The world stopped.

Han felt his knees buckle. He shoved himself backwards until he ran into the door. He felt suffocated, as if he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he’d just been dunked into a pool full of icy water. He wondered if this was what it felt like, when your heart broke, to feel like you couldn’t breathe or blink without it hurting. Like the very act of _existing_ in a world where your love went unrequited was more torture than all seven layers of Hell had to offer.

Han hadn’t planned for this. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking when he’d made such a stupid deal with Minho. As if he’d expected that Chris would look at both of them and the same time and feel the exact same way. As if they’d automatically be on equal footing. Some part of him knew that he wasn’t thinking this through properly – Chris was likely still lost in the past. He wasn’t cognisant. He wasn’t _here._

“Han.” Minho was already reaching out for Chris, but his face was twisted with concern. He looked sad. As much as it hurt, Han wondered why Minho looked so conflicted. He’d gotten what he’d wanted, hadn’t he? Now he had Chris all to himself.

“I – I can’t.” Han spat out.

“Han!” Minho called after him, but Han threw himself out into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t bother trying to hold back his sobs. He knew that no one was coming after him.

He should have known that Chris was never his in the first place.

✧✧✧

_“Minho, get away!” He yelled, hands shaking like a leaf in gale. “I don’t want – you can’t see this.” When Minho didn’t move and started to glare at him instead, Chan shoved him backwards. Minho openly scowled at him at this._

_“If I don’t know, I can’t help!” Minho almost looked petulant, with his arms crossed over his chest. But his eyes were desperate. Chan was vividly reminded of all the times Minho had coaxed him into talking about the corpses he’d seen, offering him little details in order for him to rationalise them inside his head. The manner of death depended on how bad his spirals were._

_If it was something with little gore, like a drowning, he would wake up gasping for hair, and Minho would murmur loudly into his ear, putting his feet onto the floor. If it was related to fire, or an explosion, Minho would instead wrap a blanket around him and tell Chan to breathe deeply or would fetch him a scented bar of soap. If it was a strangulation, Minho would fall asleep holding his hands so that he didn’t wake up clawing at his throat._

_But…something like this…it often had him dissociating for days. The side effects of this murder would haunt him for years. All Minho was able to do during these moments was cling onto him desperately, forcing him to eat and drink. Minho would sing to him, or play with his hands, or kiss his face to help bring him back. But during those days, Chan felt like he was dead. Only Minho kept him grabbing onto the fragile threads that tied him to reality._

_“But this one…not this one.” Chan heard his voice crack._

_“You always protect me, Chan, I don’t need it. You’re the one who needs help!”_

_“No, I don’t!” He yelled, shoving his hands roughly into his pockets. This time, Minho shoved him back, and Chan stumbled back. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He snarled, balling his hands into fists. He felt out of control, like he was on a roller coaster that showed no signs of slowing down. Behind him lay a young woman, eyes sewn shut, the edges of her lips carved up into a hideous smile. Her once-angelic face had been marred by terror. Chan knew he’d barely be able to handle it. Normally he’d shielded Minho from the worst ones. But recently, Minho had begun to grow more and more determined to help. “I don’t need you to help me all the time.”_

_“I’m your boyfriend.” Minho spat, and Chan felt as if he’d been stabbed by Minho’s sharp tone. “That’s my job.” Chan just blinked at him, unable to form words. Tears began to sting at his eyes. “I’ll do anything and everything for you, and you_ know _that, and I just –” Minho quickly stepped towards him and grabbed his wrists. “Come on. Let’s just go.”_

_“B-but –” Chan glanced over his shoulder and winced as he caught a glimpse of the broken body on the floor._

_“He’ll already know.” Minho reminded him. “He has a third eye.” Minho tugged on his wrists. The anger on his face melted away like just that little bit of contact had soothed his heart, like salve on a burn. Chan intertwined their fingers, quelling the storm of hurt that had been raging within Minho’s eyes. “Channie-hyung,” Minho whispered. “You know that I love you, right?” At this, his heart broke a little more, even though it was simultaneously singing with joy. Minho was in so deep. Too deep. But Chan was so selfish. He couldn’t bring himself to push Minho away just yet._

_“Me too.” He whispered. “I love you too, Minho.”_

Chris sat up with a soft gasp, his hands flying to his cheeks. He locked eyes with Minho, who had just been hovering over him. But Minho had stumbled back, landing heavily on the floor. To the Inspector’s shock, tears were rolling down his cheeks. Minho was white. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

_Boyfriend?_

_Love?_

“Did I say –” But before he could finish the question, Minho nodded. Suddenly, his bedroom door slammed. Chris’ head jerked towards the door.

“Han.” Minho muttered, in lieu of an explanation. “Probably went to get some water.” Chris shook his head to clear it.

“Flashback.” He whispered, and Minho just nodded again. His tears kept falling, and Minho seemed too distracted to wipe them away. Chris carefully slid onto the floor and scooted over to him, gently cupping Minho’s face and using his thumbs to smooth away the tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Minho was melting into his soft ministrations, his lips brushing against the Inspector’s fingers.

“Minho…” Chris began nibbling on his bottom lip. “I-in the flashback…we…I said…”

_"Minho, were we...friends?"_

_"Yes. You could say that."_

That was what he’d asked the very first day that he’d met Minho. And now…he understood why the question had made Minho look so incredibly angry and bitter and _heartbroken_.

“We were together, weren’t we?” Minho froze in his hold, and Chris half expected him to pull away.

“Yes.” Minho’s brows were creased in thought. “We – we started dating when I was thirteen.” Chris looked down to see that Minho’s hands were trembling. “We’d been inseparable since we were six years old.” Minho bit down on his lip.

“I…” Chris trailed off, lost for words. So much suddenly made sense. Why Minho was able to read him like a book. Why Minho had seemed so offended by his mere _existence_ at the beginning. Why he felt so comfortable around Minho. “We dated.” He murmured, half to himself. He felt his cheeks flush with heat, and he buried his face in his hands.

“You’d begun to wonder, had you?” The familiar note of teasing entered Minho’s voice. Suddenly, Chris felt warm, firm hands grip his shoulders. Minho pulled away from his hands, holding him at arm’s length. “How long has this been going on, Channie-hyung?” Chris felt his throat go dry. He swiped his tongue along his lips, not missing the way Minho’s eyes followed the movement. Suddenly, Minho was pushing his shoulders down onto the floor. Chris just stared up at him, frozen. Minho was hovering over him with his eyes burning. Their torsos were pressed flush against each other’s.

“S-s-since you got here.” Chris whispered. “In those first five minutes.” At this, Minho’s smirk was replaced with wonder.

“You still recognised me.” His voice was very soft. “I…I don’t believe in fate, Channie.” Now Minho looked serious. It was a good distraction from the way his knee was wedged far too high between the Inspector’s legs. “But…” Minho glanced off to the side, before shooting him a wide grin. “I think we could be soulmates.” At this, Chris felt his entire face begin to burn. Minho was looking at him with stars in his eyes, and Chris felt a wave of emotion rush through him, settling over his rapidly beating heart. “And I’ll tell you a secret, Channie-hyung.” Minho leaned closer to him, and Chris was suddenly acutely aware that this seemed to happen every time he was alone with Minho. “I fully intend on making you mine again.”

✧✧✧

The anguish that Han had suppressed for so long rose up like a tidal wave and threatened to overwhelm him, spilling around his iron barricades and down his cheeks, warm and salty. _Tears._ When had been the last time he had cried? He couldn't remember. He threw himself onto the floor in the corner of his Inspector’s living room, curling up in a ball in the corner. He hugged his knees to his chest, beginning to rock back and forth in an effort to calm himself down. He didn’t know why he was so upset.

He was so stupid. He saw the way Chris looked at Minho, saw how desperate Minho was to rekindle his old flames with Chris. But he’d been convinced that he’d still have a chance, that maybe something was sparking between him and his Inspector.

Clearly, he was wrong. And it hurt. No, that was the understatement of the fucking century. It felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart. He felt too hot, like his skin was too tight. It was hard to breathe. 

Maybe he’d thought that he’d be the first one to confess. Maybe he’d always thought that if he made the right move at the right time, that Chris would just…fall in love with him.

He had imagined Chris confessing to Minho, but only in his worst nightmares. Even then, it had only been an _‘I like you’_ sort of confession at most. Not this… _’I love you.’_ It had been so inconceivable to Han that he hadn’t even thought it was possible. Han stiffened as he heard light footfalls coming towards him. He knew who it was. The very person he didn’t want to see. He looked down at his feet, refusing to acknowledge Minho.

“Hi.” Minho’s voice was soft as he sat down beside Han. He was far enough away that Han didn’t feel suffocated but was close enough to still offer comfort if Han needed it.

“Hi.” Han sniffled.

“You okay?” Minho sounded gentle, as if he was talking to a small, injured animal.

“No.” Han replied brusquely.

“I didn’t think so.” Minho hummed, crossing his legs and leaning back against the couch.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you alone with Chris.” Han chanced a glance at Minho. To Han’s surprise, Minho blushed, and looked away.

“I don’t mind.” Minho whispered. “He’s resting again. He’s okay. Trust me, Han. I respect you enough to tell you if he wasn’t.”

“What about his leg, though?” Han wiped his nose on his sleeve, not caring how gross he looked. He was fucking heartbroken. He’d earned the right to be a mess.

“I was thinking of getting Chaeyoung to come out.” Minho murmured. He dug in his pocket, pulling out a small bag of tissues. “Here.” Han just nodded wordlessly as he accepted them.

“Doesn’t she work with dead bodies?” Han chuckled, but it was watery, and just reminded him about the lump stuck in his throat that made him realise he was still on the verge of tears.

“She has her medical licence.” Minho nudged his shoulder. “Dummy.”

“Yeah, and what else is new?” Han pulled his knees up to his chest. He forced out a laugh, but he knew damn well how bitter it sounded. “I thought I had a chance. I’m delusional.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Minho sounded so genuinely confused. “Han, I think –”

“He said he loves you.” Han spat out. He’d had countless daydreams about the words ‘ _I love you’_ falling from his Inspector’s lips. He’d finally heard them. _Finally_ , after all this time.

But they hadn’t been for him.

“What?” Minho was perplexed.

“Minho, don’t play dumb with me.” Han felt his lip begin to tremble as he tried to hold in his tears. “We both fucking heard it.”

“I know. I’m not insulting your intelligence.” Minho retorted. “Han, _listen._ That was just a flashback.” Han refused to look at him. He heard Minho sigh. “There is no way that who he is now has any genuine love towards me at all. If there’s anyone he would confess to, we both know that it would be you.” Han just blinked at him.

“You know the way he looks at you, right?” Han shot back, and Minho huffed, clearly frustrated.

“Han, I…I am fully aware how strange it is that I still harbour feelings for him, and to hope that he would ever reciprocate them again.” Minho sighed. “It was thirteen years ago. He doesn’t know who I was. He barely knows me now.” Minho bit down on his bottom lip. “And I’ve changed, since then. He’s changed, too. And I wonder if maybe we’re _too_ different. I am fully aware that even if he does have some romantic feelings for me – and that’s a big _if,_ Han – that it’s nowhere near love.”

“But –”

“It would be an infatuation, a crush.” Minho curled his hands into fists. “He’s got five years’ worth of memories with you. All he has of me are his flashbacks, which are normally awful anyway.”

“But he –”

“And Han – _Han,_ you don’t know how he looks at you. He’s so gentle with you. He would do anything for you.” The words weren’t bitter, as Han had expected. They weren’t full of jealousy. Minho sounded desperate, almost, like he _had_ to get Han to understand him. His words were desperate and rushed. And…and you’re so _good,_ Han. You deserve every bit of affection he gives you.” Han flushed at this. “I never expected kindness from you. I know I’ve made huge mistakes; I know I’ve hurt you and I almost hurt Chan, and…and I _hate_ it. But you haven’t kept us from each other.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” Han whispered into his knees. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Minho.

“No.” Minho shot back. “You had the choice to keep me in that jail cell. I was a realistic suspect. You didn’t have to believe me. But you did. And you kept speaking to me, even when we fought, even when it was my fault.”

“You’re not the villain here, Minho.” Han looked up at him, squeezing his lips together to stop them from trembling. “I was in the wrong too.” Han leaned back against the couch. “I know it hurt for you to say all that.” Han whispered, glancing across at Minho, whose eyes were fixed on the floor.

“I hate to admit it.” Minho hissed. “I hate to admit that I’m so far away from him, even when I’m right next to him. That I don’t know if anything will ever be the same again.” Minho inhaled deeply. “It’s just a mess. A whole fucking mess.”

“I-I’m glad you’re here.” Han murmured. “I have Changbin, but…having you here really helps.”

“Good.” Han finally allowed himself to look over at Minho, only to find that the other man was staring back at him, a small smile on his face. “I’m glad you don’t fully hate me.”

“I don’t.” Han couldn’t help but scoff. “You just piss me off.”

“A lot.”

“Yeah, a lot.” Han couldn’t help but laugh. “Speaking of Changbin…I guess I should call him, right?” Han nibbled on his bottom lip.

“I’m going to call Felix and Chaeyoung. Felix should be almost here, anyway.”

“And Chris…is…is he still awake?”

“I think he’s dozing now.” Minho sighed. “But it’s just normal sleep.” Minho closed his eyes, and for the first time, Han realised how deep the bags under Minho’s eyes were.

“You should rest too, Minho.” Minho shook his head, and Han frowned. “Have you even been sleeping at all?”

“Of course I haven’t.” Minho muttered. “I keep thinking that someone’s going to burst in and take him away from me.”

“How about I stay here tonight?” When Minho glanced over at him, confused, Han just smiled. “Usually I sleep pretty well now. We can take turns keeping watch if you want. Would that help you to sleep?” Minho’s mouth was hanging slightly open as he nodded.

“Yeah, it would, actually.” Minho just stared at Han for a moment, before shaking his head in disbelief. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, hyung.” The way Minho smiled at him had butterflies erupting inside of his stomach. Han felt his cheeks heat up. He wanted to tear his eyes away and hide his embarrassment, but he was awestruck by the radiance of Minho’s smile.

When had things gotten so complicated?

✧✧✧

“Channie.” There was a warm hand on his arm, gently shaking him. “Channie-hyung, time to wake up.” Chris forced his eyelids open – they felt so heavy, like they were made out of concrete. He blinked for a few moments. Suddenly the events of the day hit him like a freight train, and he sat bolt upright.

_Blood and gore and skin gone purple, pain and suffering and loss, shaking hands and nausea and hands clutching onto him –_

“Channie, you’re okay, you’re safe, you’re with me.” Someone began running their fingers through his hair, and he tried to relax into the touch.

_Han’s face pale and tense, whimpering as Chris’ legs gave out from under him._

“It’s me, Minho.”

_His knees were stinging and his head was spinning, but his brain was filled with Minho, Minho, Minho, his own voice echoing in the recesses of his mind._

“Minho.” He breathed. And then before – Minho hovering over him, their bodies pressed together. His body had thrummed with heat. Minho stopped stroking his hair and began to cup his cheeks, tilting Chris’ face up to look at him.

“Hi.” Minho murmured. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Chris whispered. He paused, taking the time to assess himself. He no longer felt dizzy, and he actually felt awake now – not like last time, when he’d still felt whoozy. “Yeah, much better.” He didn’t even feel nauseous. Minho let out a long exhale, and his face slackened in relief.

“Good.” As Minho’s eyes flickered open, Chris froze.

_“I fully intend on making you mine again.”_

“Oh my god.” He blurted out. Minho looked concerned for a moment, but his eyes flicked to the Inspector’s ears. Chris bit down on his lip. He hated that it was so easy to see when he got embarrassed. His ears gave him away every time. Minho then grinned, but it was wolfish. Chris still couldn’t quite process it. Minho was his ex-boyfriend. Or boyfriend. They hadn’t broken up, had they? Did that mean they were still together? How did this work?

“That’s one thing I’m glad you remember.” Minho whispered, a small smirk on his face. Then Chris froze.

“Jisung. Where’s Jisungie?” Minho dropped his hands from Chris’ face and stepped back. His Constable was standing off to the side, shoulders slumped, eyes on the floor. “Jisungie.” Chris called softly. His Constable didn’t look up, and Chris clenched his jaw. He moved to the edge of the bed.

“Chan.” A note of warning entered Minho’s tone, but Chris shook his head at him. He held out his hand and Minho sighed. “Fine.” Minho grabbed his hand and gently helped him to his feet. Chris kept his eyes on Minho and smiled, giving the younger man a small nod. Minho bit his lips and let go of his hand. Chris carefully shuffled over towards Jisung. As soon as he reached his Constable, Chris didn’t hesitate. He pulled Jisung into his arms, squeezing the younger man tightly. Jisung stood frozen for a moment. Then, he began to shake. He buried his face into Chris’ neck.

“Oh, Jisungie.” Chris whispered into his ears. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, because Jisung began wailing in his arms. His small frame was wracked with sobs, and he clutched at Chris’ arms.

“Ch-Ch-Chris.” Jisung sobbed, pressing himself even closer. “Ch-Chris, you were out for s-s-s-so long.” Chris began smoothing his fingers through Jisung’s hair.

“I know, I know.” Chris soothed. “I was a fucking idiot, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Jisungie.”

“Y-y-you say that all the time.” Jisung hiccupped, and Chris giggled.

“Hey, hey, I’m trying to get some brain cells back. I’ll try to be less of an idiot.” He buried his face in Jisung’s hair as his Constable cried harder. Chris hummed, rubbing large circles onto Jisung’s back. “It’s okay, baby.” Chris froze.

_‘Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, did he hear me? Did I say that out loud? Oh fuck, oh god, what the fuck have I done –’_

“Ch-Chris?” Jisung breathed, and Chris remained still. Jisung snuggled closer to him but tilted his head up. His warm breath ghosted along Chris’ neck, and the Inspector pursed his lips together, casting his eyes to the ceiling. “Did you just…?”

“Yep.” Chris blurted out.

“Did you mean it?” Jisung whispered. Chris felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Chaeyoung’s here.” Minho’s voice snapped Chris out of his panic.

“Chaeyoung? Doctor Chaeyoung Son?” Chris’ brow wrinkled in confusion as Minho held up his phone. “Why do you have Chaeyoung’s number?”

“She’s my colleague.” Minho replied simply, heading to the door.

 _“Your_ colleague?” Chris laughed, before realising that Minho was serious.

“Project Argus.” Jisung mumbled.

“What the fuck?” Chris muttered. Then he glanced back at down at Jisung, who was still staring up at him with wide eyes. “Also, Jisung, I – I – I really –”

“There he is. The idiot of the century.” Chris loved Chaeyoung, he really did, but in that moment, he could’ve turned around and told her to get out.

“Jisung, I –”

“Can’t believe you went a whole day without getting it seen to!”

“I just want to –”

“I hope it’s not fucking infected, or you’ll be at the hospital quicker than you can say dumbass.”

“Jisungie –”

“Christopher, sit down so I can have a look at it.” Chris groaned, knowing better than to refuse her. He disentangled himself from Jisung, who now just looked slightly amused. His eyes were still red and swollen, but at least he was no longer crying. Before Chris made his way over to Chaeyoung, he bit down on his bottom lip.

 _‘Yes.’_ He mouthed at his Constable. He desperately hoped that Jisung got the message. Before he could see Jisung’s reaction, he hurried back over to his bed and plopped down next to Minho, who was watching him with a small smile. Minho glanced over in Jisung’s direction and his smile widened, and Chris winced. He was about to follow Minho’s gaze before Chaeyoung flicked his ear. “Oi, pants down. I need to see the wound.” Chris grumbled at this, but reluctantly shimmied out of his slacks. He felt his ears heat up as he sensed Minho’s heavy gaze on his bare thighs but fixed his attention on Chaeyoung.

The pathologist was clicking her tongue and muttering under her breath as she gently unwound the bandages from his leg. She whistled softly as she stared down at the angry red wound and reached up to smack the back of his head.

“Look. For what it is, and where you were stabbed, it’s not that bad.” Chaeyoung sighed. She ran a hand through her blonde hair, chewing on her bottom lip. “Well, not as bad as it _could_ be.”

“I disinfected it.” Jisung whispered. “As soon as we got back to the station, we poured – um, whiskey on it. I know it wasn’t the best, but –”

“I was being stubborn.” Chris rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“Whiskey.” Chaeyoung deadpanned. “Did Dahyun give you that?” Han snorted as he tried to imagine the pathologist’s cheeky assistant with a secret stash of hard liquor.

“No, the Superintendent.” Jisung told her. At this, Chaeyoung smirked.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Chris almost laughed at her jibe. But then he remembered that the Superintendent _knew_ that Tailor was a drug pusher, and had hidden it from the records, and from 3Racha. He scowled instead.

“And yes, I did it properly when we got here, with betadine.” Han murmured, and she brightened up at this.

“Okay, good. It looks like you’ve done a good job cleaning it. It’s deep, yes, but it’s missed major veins and arteries.” She locked eyes with Chris and glared. He wilted under her fierce gaze. “You, mister, are _so_ lucky. And also, an idiot. I would gladly have cleaned it up for you at the station! I’m just downstairs! You know what I do for a living, right?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Stitches are _literally_ my speciality, you ass.” She shook her head and huffed. “It’s no wonder you’re getting knocked around this badly by your trauma! You’re physically not able to cope with the stress.”

“So, he’ll be okay?” That was Minho, who was still huddled on the bed next to him.

“I’ll do an iron transfusion, and I’ll get some fluids into you with a drip. You shouldn’t need a blood transfusion.” Chaeyoung hummed in thought. “But I will be keeping an eye on you, Christopher. I don’t expect you to be passing out again after I get some fluids into you.” She tapped her chin and frowned. “I guess I could get you some sleeping pills, as well.” She sighed. “On second thought, I think I’ll stitch the wound. It’s still too deep.” She glanced over her shoulder at Jisung, then glanced at Minho. “Should I assume that Constable Han knows everything? You two seem like you’ve become fast friends.” Jisung snorted at this, and Minho rolled his eyes. Chris couldn’t help but laugh.

A soft tapping sound then caught his attention. It started raising in volume and intensity.

“Felix?” Jisung asked, looking over at Minho, and Chris’ eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Give me a second, Chaeyoung.” Chris murmured. He carefully got to his feet, with Minho hovering at his elbow. Jisung glanced at him and Chris jerked his head towards the door. Jisung fell into step next to him, and the three men cautiously left the Inspector’s bedroom and moved towards the door. “Maybe it’s Binnie?” But Jisung shook his head.

“He’s still at the station. They’ve got a lead on Hale and Cheng’s case.”

“Felix said he’d gotten a call from Jeongin, so he’d be a little later than I first thought.” Minho muttered.

“Only one way to find out.” Chris glanced between the two men before turning his attention back to the door. The Inspector licked his lips, grasping hold of the doorknob and creaking the door open.

“Hey, Chris!” He was greeted by a blinding smile. “I missed you!” He heard a small curse from Minho, and a soft gasp from Jisung. He just stared at the newcomer for a moment, mouth hanging open.

_“BamBam?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to let you know, anyone who has read this fic can take credit for manifesting the skz fanmeet detective theme   
> THE DETECTIVE OUTFITS THOUGH!!!!!! somehow it was exactly like i imagined them all in this fic, so if you're ever struggling to visualise them in this fic, just look at the skz fanmeet photos hahaha
> 
> so now chris officially knows the truth about him and minho. i wonder where we'll go from here hMmmMMmMmMMMM
> 
> another cliffhanger. i'm so sorry. i think you guys should be able to tell that we've already met cheng and hale's killer, so more of that next week!! 
> 
> and!!! this is the start of the got7 intros!!! i'm excited to bring in some more side characters. next chapter will feature a bit more of changbin as he tries to navigate his way around his own up and coming relationships, and we'll learn a bit more about bambam and how he's tied to both chris and project argus. so lot's to look forwards to (hopefully).
> 
> also, i'll be posting minho's prologue as soon as i post this, so look forwards to that when you finish the update. i'll be making this into a series so it's easy to find any extras, in case you're ever curious. 
> 
> as always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading this. i think we're almost at 100k words, which is the longest thing i've ever written in my entire life, and i can't believe i've made it this far. i'll see you guys next week, enjoy!!
> 
> \- c
> 
> (p.s. this is pretty much unbeta'd, so i apologise if there are more mistakes than usual)


	12. Perfidious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You were best friends, he – he was fucking in love with you.”  
> “I know.”

_[Deceitful and untrustworthy.]_

_[“Poison, trap, toadstool you can set them up_

_I’ll survive in the end, whatever it takes.]_

**Friday, night**

Minho was thoroughly unimpressed. No, scratch that, he was thoroughly pissed off. He sat scowling at BamBam, who was currently saying something that was undoubtedly stupid, trying to make Chan laugh. And the worst thing was, it was working. Chan was covering his mouth with both hands, giggling madly, body trembling with laughter.

“What’s up with you, hyung?” Jeongin's sweet voice met his ears, and Minho turned to glower at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Chan and BamBam had…had a ‘ _thing?’”_ He hissed quietly, and his partner just looked at him.

“I mean it definitely wasn’t one of my priorities.” Jeongin had a little sass to his tone, and Minho sank back into the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Also, I just got here, hyung, lay off me for two seconds, will you?”

“Yes, I know, but when I was sent here, you could’ve slipped it into a case file.” Minho grumbled, and then Jeongin sighed.

“I have no idea why he’s here. We didn’t call him in. It was probably one of his pals in CID that gave him the heads up about Chan.” The redhead murmured, and Minho bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Hyung, he’s old news.” Jeongin insisted.

“That’s not what Han made it sound like.” Minho muttered under his breath, and Jeongin poked him.

“Who’s meant to be the bratty maknae here?” Minho couldn’t help but smirk at this. “Also, Han is just as bad as you are. I’m sure he was reading into it too much.”

“Han isn’t like that.” Minho shot back. _“I’m_ like that, but not Han.” Jeongin sighed again, this time fully exaggerated, and Minho turned to look at him.

“Nice of you to stick up for him.” Jeongin muttered, and now it was Minho’s turn to poke him.

“Does BamBam-hyung know that Seungmin is here?” Han's voice was extra bright, clearly desperate to break up some of the tension.

“Hyung?” Minho couldn’t help but growl, and Jeongin shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Felix and I relied on him a lot, the first few years Chan - Chris-hyung was in training.” Jeongin murmured. “The flashbacks and anxiety…they were really bad then, and Chris-hyung had a hard time.” The redhead frowned, and clasped his hands together. “BamBam-hyung was a really big help.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he was.” The information should’ve been a comfort to Minho, that Chan had had someone to rely on in those first few years. But it just made him bitter. Minho had trained with BamBam, who had turned out to be one of Felix’s first recruits for Project Argus. Which meant that Kwang-hoon had had to sign off on BamBam being sent from headquarters in South Korea all the way to London, just to watch over Chan.

It was something Minho could’ve done. Why had he wasted so many years carrying out gruesome, dangerous, _stupid_ missions for Kwang-hoon when he could have been _with Chan_ for the past thirteen years? But instead they’d sent BamBam. What did he have that Minho didn’t? Minho had been loyal to a fault. He’d rarely stepped out of line, and had taken all of his punishments without complaint.

“ – right?! Oh, and how’s auntie?” Minho caught the tail end of BamBam’s sentence.

“Mum’s good. She still asks about you.” Chan was grinning at BamBam, his eyes glimmering. Minho froze.

_A-Yeong._

_A smile so sharp that it could cut through glass. Cold brown eyes, narrowed as she glared at him._

_“You’ll regret losing my son, Lee Minho.” She sneered at him. “I’ll make you pay for the rest of your life.”_

“That fucking snake.” Minho hissed, and he was on his feet within seconds.

“Hyung?” Jeongin rose slowly to his own feet, eyes suddenly sharp.

“Of course this is the way she chose to make me pay.” Minho curled his hands into fists, eyes fixed on BamBam. “She knew exactly what she was doing. She used the last bit of power she held over Kwang-hoon.” Before he could stop him, Minho strode over to BamBam, and gave his shoulder a small shove.

“Hey!” BamBam whirled around, shoving Minho’s hand off of him. “What’s your problem, Lee?”

“What other favours have you done for A-Yeong?” Minho hissed, crossing his arms over his chest. “She had to have known who you were so she could send you here.”

“I’m not under interrogation, am I?” BamBam kept his voice light, but his eyes were narrowed.

“Answer me.” Minho locked eyes with the Inspector. “How close are you with A-Yeong? Why did you get sent here to be with Chan and not me?” BamBam froze, the muscles along his jaw twitching. “Bhuwakul.” Minho insisted, and BamBam’s face twisted.

“Maybe because you were a risk to Operation Pandora.” BamBam finally snapped. “You were unstable and had too much personal involvement, Lee.”

“I was the best candidate to be sent here and you know it.”

“You would have compromised everything.” BamBam growled, and Minho bit down on the inside of his cheek.

“No I wouldn’t have. I was _– and still am_ – a good soldier.” 

“I’m just telling it like it is.” BamBam was growing impatient. “My family was friends with the Bangs, I had done my training under Kwang-hoon, I was the better candidate.” Minho stiffened at this.

“Were your families _friends,_ or financial allies?” Minho didn’t care how biting his tone was. BamBam flinched, and Minho smirked. “Exactly what I thought. You didn’t deserve to go, A-Yeong _paid your family_ for you to go, isn’t that right, _Inspector?”_

“Minho.” That was Han’s voice. When had he approached? Minho turned to glance at the Constable, who was frowning. “That’s enough.” Han murmured, flicking his eyes towards Chan. Minho followed his gaze, and instantly the fight left his lungs. Chan’s eyes were wide, and were fixed on BamBam.

“What are you talking about?” Chan’s voice was tight. Minho looked over to see that all the blood had drained from Chan’s face. The Inspector swallowed hard. “Bammie?” BamBam was openly scowling at Minho now.

“You’re a fucking prick, you know that right?” BamBam shot back.

“You should have told him as soon as you heard that Project Argus had set up another operation in London.” Minho told him. “Unless A-Yeong trusted you to be her bitch and not say anything.” BamBam froze for a moment, and Minho knew that the blow had landed, his words ringing true.

“I’ve been busy.” BamBam hissed, glancing over at Chan, whose expression was now blank.

“You work for Project Argus.” Chan whispered. “You work for my father.”

“Yeah, I do.” BamBam’s face softened as he turned his attention to Chan. “A-Yeong – auntie – she sent me here, to look out for you.”

“No.” Chan breathed, taking a step back. “She sent you here to _trick me.”_ Chan then turned to Minho, his expression rife with hurt. “Chaeyoung, Seungmin, and now BamBam? Who else in my life can’t I trust?” Reflexively, Chan’s eyes flicked to Han, and Minho stilled. He felt a stab of guilt, and his stomach twisted.

“3Racha have nothing to do with any of this, Channie, I promise.” Minho murmured. He deflated a little now. He’d been so focused on his anger and righteous indignation that he hadn’t stopped to wonder about how Chan would react. Minho jumped as Han stepped rather forcefully on his foot.

 _“Apologise.”_ Han muttered under his breath, and Minho shot a glare at BamBam. “It wasn’t your place to say anything.” Minho knew that that much was true, but it still didn’t change the fact that Minho had been side-stepped, all because fucking _A-Yeong_ wanted to have the final say.

“You don’t understand, Han.” Minho shot back quietly. “It could have – it _should have_ been me stationed here, with Chan.” He locked eyes with BamBam as he spoke, and he watched as anger flashed across the other man’s face.

“I protected him better than you ever did.” BamBam snapped, and Minho instinctively took a step forwards. He heard footsteps – undoubtedly his partners on their way towards him – and Han grabbed his arm.

“Take that back.” Minho spat.

“I heard all about it from A-Yeong.” BamBam hissed, taking a step forwards himself. “How you let him get attacked.” Minho’s lip curled as a wave of fury washed over him. “How you lay there on the ground as they dragged him away –”

“Stop talking right _fucking_ now if you know what’s good for you.”

“They stabbed him right in front of your face –”

“Why, you –” Han latched onto Minho’s arm and dragged Minho backwards. Minho bared at his, eyes blazing with anger.

“That’s enough.” Chan’s voice was low and cold. Minho swallowed nervously as he turned his head to look at the Inspector. Chan was staring straight ahead. “Both of you are being immature.” The Inspector bit down on his bottom lip, and suddenly Minho felt on edge. “I…I don’t want to think about that.” Minho clenched his jaw. Of course Chan would have regained _that_ particular memory at some point. The most traumatising one of them all. “Clearly my mother was aiming to pit you two against each other. Another game of hers.” Minho nodded, before he froze.

_Another?_

“Chan?” He whispered, eyes widening as the Inspector started looking at his feet.

“I remembered some other stuff.” The Inspector murmured, and Minho felt all of the blood drain from his face.

“What about?” Minho barely dared to breathe. His anxiety felt like an iron cage around his ribs, squeezing his lungs in a vice-like grip. Did Chan know that he was the final victim? Did he know that all of this was about _him_ being a target?

“My parents.” Chan still wasn’t looking at him, and Minho tried to ignore how his hands had begun to shake. “You.”

“Anything else?” Minho breathed, and Chan shook his head, suddenly looking frustrated.

“No.” Chan bit out. “I wish I remembered more about the murders.” The Inspector muttered, clenching his hands into fists. “Then I could be of more help.”

“Relax, Chris.” That was BamBam, who was now smiling gently at Chan. Minho stiffened, his hackles rising again. “You’re one of the best. You’ve got this.” Finally, Chan’s stoic expression cracked, and his lips twitched into a small smile.

“Thanks, Bammie.” Chan’s smile widened at little, but it still looked forced. “I’m going to ask Chaeyoung about Cheng and Hale.”

“Chris, you should rest.” Han murmured from his spot by Minho’s shoulder. But Chan just waved his hand, as if shooing away Han’s worries. Chan padded over to Han and ruffled the Constable’s hair, his expression suddenly incredibly gentle. His eyes were brimming with warmth. Minho couldn’t resist shooting BamBam another glare. Up until the Inspector’s untimely arrival, that was how Chan had started looking at _him._ And now, due to this altercation, Chan was clearly avoiding his gaze. Chan patted Han’s arm and strode over to Chaeyoung, who was watching the scene with a raised eyebrow.

“If you have any information, Bhuwakul, you should share it.” Minho bit out through clenched teeth, and BamBam glowered back.

“Felix should have all of the information that you don’t.” Minho’s eyelid twitched at this.

“Low blow.” He muttered, and BamBam just shrugged.

“Both of you, just stop it.” Han’s voice was sharp. Minho watched curiously as BamBam’s eyes widened.

“You’re not a shy squirrel anymore, then.” BamBam murmured. _‘Interesting.’_ Minho couldn’t help but think, watching as Han’s shoulders tensed.

“Can’t you see that you’re making Chris uncomfortable?” Han muttered, jerking his head in Chan’s direction. “I get that you’re trying to preserve your honour or whatever, BamBam, but –” Han checked to see if Chan was within earshot. “You were best friends, he – he was fucking _in love with you.”_ Han’s voice started rising, and Minho instinctively moved closer to the Constable. He had the sudden urge to protect Han. Seeing the Constable upset made Minho feel…strange. He felt prickly and uncomfortable.

“I know.” BamBam shot back before Minho had the chance to open his mouth. The Inspector’s face crumpled. “I _know.”_ The Inspector took a step back and glanced over at Chan, hunching his shoulders. “Even if I came here because of A-Yeong at first, I stayed for _him.”_

“Okay.” Han inhaled deeply. “Okay.” The Constable raked his hands through his hair, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Apologise to each other.” Minho just eyed BamBam, his lip curling. “Minho.” There was an edge to Han’s voice. Minho shot the Constable an incredulous look, and Han raised one eyebrow, as if daring Minho to make a retort.

“I’m sorry.” Minho muttered to his shoes.

“Me too.” BamBam shot back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Now I get how Chris feels.” Han groaned. He caught Minho’s eye and smiled, almost secretively. Minho couldn’t help but smile back.

“Oi!” There was a muffled shout coming from the door, and it was soon followed by banging. Minho whirled around, instantly on high alert. For some reason, Han was giggling softly.

“Why aren’t you worried?” Minho hissed into Han’s ear, and the Constable shot him an easy smile.

“That has to be Changbin. And I bet you he’s got a lead.” Minho fell into step behind Han as the Constable trotted over to the door. The banging continued, and Minho heard a laugh from behind him. He couldn’t help but grin. He’d recognize Chan’s laugh any day of the week. Han threw the door open, and Changbin, Felix, and Hyunjin, who had clearly all been leaning against the door to look through the peephole, collapsed into a heap on the floor.

✧✧✧

Han just stared at the three for a moment. Han’s rival, his partner, and a gang member walked into a room. It sounded like the set up for some stupid joke but nope, this was Han’s fucking reality.

Good thing it was fucking hilarious.

Han had never seen Changbin look so utterly disgruntled and offended before. Chris was always the one in 3Racha to show up ruffled, with his uniform askew or hair akimbo, but Changbin was always so well put-together. Han frowned as he took in the Sergeant’s appearance again. Changbin was wearing a shirt that was obscenely tight around his biceps and chest, his shoulders almost bursting out of the fabric. His hair was slicked back, and instead of the studs or small hoops that adorned his ears, there was a delicate chain dangling from his earlobe, adorned with a tiny, crystal-encrusted dagger. Han squinted, leaning down closer to get a better look.

“Is that eyeliner?” Han queried, and bit back a laugh at how Changbin flushed bright red.

“We were in a hurry for a disguise.” The Sergeant muttered.

“Excuse me,” That was Hyunjin, indignantly cutting Changbin off. “I spent about ten minutes making sure it was _perfect_. _”_

“So you did.” Changbin bit out through gritted teeth.

“It looks good, Binnie.” Changbin paused at this, and seemed to turn even more red.

“Hi, Constable Han.” Felix, whose cheeks were suspiciously pink, smiled sheepishly up at Han. “Sorry I didn’t come with the stuff for dinner earlier.” Felix tried to push Hyunjin off of his leg, and the Constable landed heavily on Changbin’s back.

“Hwang, get the fuck off me.” Changbin grumbled, and Hyunjin smacked his arm.

“It’s Hyunjin!”

“You, too?” Felix tried squeezing out from under Changbin’s arm. “He keeps calling me Yongbok.”

“Both of you are a pain in my ass.” Changbin growled, trying to sit up. He was rewarded with Hyunjin’s foot becoming lodged in his side. “What did I do to deserve this?” He shifted again, and winced. “Move it, Hyunjin!”

“It’s karma.” Hyunjin told him sagely. “You should be calling us by our first names.”

“It’s unprofessional.” Changbin bit out through gritted teeth. “Get off me, fat ass.”

“Who are you calling fat ass?” Han laughed, nudging Changbin with his foot.

“Have you seen _your_ ass?” Hyunjin added, catching Han’s eye and grinning. Han felt his smile become a bit more predatory. This was a routine he often shared with Chris. How long would it take for Changbin to explode?

“Have _you?”_ Changbin shoved Hyunjin off him when the Constable remained silent. “Hyunjin, I swear to god, if you’re about to say you’ve been looking at my ass –”

“It’s not a punishable offence.” Hyunjin threw his hands up in the air as Changbin glowered at him.

“It’s a nice ass.” Felix, ever the peace-maker, added in cheerfully, and Changbin let his forehead hit the floor with a soft _clunk._

“Han, send them back, please, I never wanted this. Jihyo, Lee, take them back.” Changbin was whining like a petulant child, and Han just snorted.

“You were away from us for half a day, Binnie. You got yourself into this mess, now get yourself out.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Changbin rolled his eyes, and Han laughed. Finally, Felix managed to worm his way out from the trio’s mess of limbs, and scrambled to his feet. He held out his hand to Changbin, and Han watched with wide eyes as Changbin’s expression softened. The Sergeant reached up to grab Felix’s hand. Changbin was bulky, with a six-pack that Han thought rivalled even Chris’ chiselled abdomen, and biceps that sometimes seemed to be as thick as tree trunks. But Felix, slight and pixie-like, hauled the Sergeant to his feet with ease. “Thanks, Y – Felix.”

“There you go.” Felix grinned at the Sergeant, patting Changbin on the shoulder. “Thanks, Sergeant.”

“You can drop the formalities.” Changbin sighed, finally admitting defeat.

“Seo-ssi?” Han didn’t miss the way that Felix glanced over at Minho, who just shrugged, jerking his chin in Changbin’s direction.

“Just Changbin is fine.” The Sergeant mumbled. Han was suddenly blinded by Felix’s brilliant smile. Clearly Changbin was also heavily-affected, and Han watched as Changbin’s jaw dropped.

“Thank you!” Felix chirped, and Han could have sworn that Changbin’s hand twitched, as if he was going to grab his chest. Han didn’t miss the way that Changbin’s eyes were suddenly sparkling. It made him pause. He’d seen Changbin’s eyes glint before – when he had a lead, when Chris made a sarcastic remark, when they solved a case – but nothing Han had ever seen was even remotely comparable to the veritable _galaxy_ now forming in Changbin’s gaze.

“What about me?” Hyunjin whined from the floor, and Changbin’s eye twitched. Han could have laughed. “Felix?” Hyunjin wheedled, and Han watched as Felix once again turned pink, freezing in place.

“Pain in my ass.” Changbin grumbled, reaching down to grab Hyunjin’s collar. The Sergeant hauled the Constable to his feet. “There are no limits to where or when I will throw you, Constable Hwang.” The only thing stopping Han from laughing ass off was the fact that he didn’t want to ruin the moment. There was no way he was letting Hyunjin forget this. When Hyunjin struggled to stand up, Changbin sighed, grabbing one of Hyunjin’s shoulders and the back of his neck to help steady him. _“Brat.”_ Changbin muttered. Hyunjin went bright red. “You weren’t the one that hit your head!”

“Oh, shit.” Chaeyoung muttered from Chris’ side, staring at her phone. “I need to get back. Cheng’s body is ready for me, and Dahyun needs me.” She gave them all a quick wave as she trotted over to the door. “I’ll send you the results, Chris!” Chris turned to wave her off, and in doing so, his eyes landed on Changbin, Felix, and Hyunjin. Han watched as his Inspector’s eyes widened.

“Binnie.” Chris’ voice was soft, but cut through Han’s senses like a knife. Minho turned around at the exact same time as Han. Han’s heart clenched as he saw that Chris’ bottom lip was trembling, and his eyes were glassy.

“You’re okay.” Changbin whispered, and Han turned to see that Changbin’s eyes were also gleaming with the beginnings of tears. “Chris, you’re _okay.”_

“Y-yeah.” Han looked between his partners, perplexed. “I’m so sorry for what I said to you.” Han barely had time to form the words _‘guys, what’s happening right now?’_ before Changbin took off towards Chris at full pelt. The Sergeant bear-tackled Chris, who instantly engulfed Changbin in his arms.

“Me too.” Changbin’s voice broke as he buried his face into Chris’ chest.

“I’m sorry for being an idiot.” Han could only stand frozen, absolutely bemused, as Chris hiccupped and scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve.

“I was an idiot too.”

“What’s going on?” Hyunjin whispered, leaning towards Han. “Do they always do this?”

“I bet you they had a fight.” Han sighed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry, they’ll be alright in five…”

“I’m such a dumbass.” Changbin’s voice was thick with emotion.

“Four…” Han continued, eyeing the pair fondly.

“I’m the biggest dumbass.”

“Three…two…” Finally, the Sergeant and Han’s Inspector broke apart, and clapped each other on the back. They fist-bumped, and Han couldn’t help but smile. He’d struck gold by having these two as his partners. “One. We will now resume our normally-scheduled program.” There was a soft snort from his left. Han glanced over to see that Minho was smirking, his eyes glimmering with mirth. “Did you just laugh?” Minho glanced back at him and coughed into his hand, his face smoothing over.

“No.” Minho muttered, but Han’s lips twitched.

“Hyunjin and I got a lead on Hale and Cheng’s case.” Changbin’s voice was rising with excitement. Han whirled around to see that Changbin was digging in his satchel for his notebook, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

“It’s Roberts.” Felix’s deep voice made Changbin pause.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I was looking through Cheng’s background. She’d gone to Korea with two friends – Hale and Roberts. I checked their school records, and the three of them went to the same high school.”

“Do you think that she’s next?” Hyunjin murmured, and Felix nodded.

“I think the three of them know something.” Changbin told Chris. “But we need to move fast. Both Cheng and Hale went missing a few days before they were found dead.”

“Fuck.” Minho whispered. “We might not have much time.”

“I’ll go.” BamBam finally spoke up from his place in the corner. To be honest, Han had forgotten that he was there, between trying to placate Minho and Changbin’s arrival. The Inspector must have been standing and observing carefully. “Chris, you should rest.” His voice was full of warmth, but when he turned his gaze to Minho and Han, his expression became unreadable.

“Are you sure, Bammie?” Chris seemed a little guarded, and a flash of hurt crossed over BamBam’s face.

“I can come with you.” Felix offered, but the Inspector shook his head.

“It’ll make sense if I say I’m doing it as a favour for Chris. Otherwise there’ll be questions in CID.”

“It would mean a lot to me if you could do that. Just to keep an eye on her, to make sure that she’s safe.” BamBam nodded.

“You got it, Chris. You get onto solving your case, yeah? Let me help.” For a moment, Chris’ lips twitched into a smile. Then, the Inspector’s expression darkened.

“Thanks.” BamBam smiled awkwardly, almost placatingly, before he began heading towards the door. He patted Chris’ shoulder, and Chris gave him that tight-lipped smile again. Han frowned. BamBam’s secret must have really hurt his Inspector. All of the interactions he’d witnessed between the two in the past had been full of affection. The two were always touchy-feely, with BamBam grabbing at Chris’ hands, or Chris leaning his head onto BamBam’s shoulder. Usually, BamBam’s arrival meant that Han could guarantee he’d be silently seething for the rest of the day. But now, Han just kind of felt bad.

It had been a rollercoaster of a day for Han. He’d gone from concerned to hysterical with panic, then out of his mind with worry the entire time that Chris had been passed out. Then, he’d been hurt and sad. Then he’d decided that Minho actually was kind of cool to be around and was a good guy. Then, Chris had called him _baby_ – which Han was still trying categorise as an accident – and he’d been flustered. Then he’d become pissed off at BamBam and Minho. He was exhausted.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how his Inspector was feeling. BamBam gave them all a wave and gently closed the door behind him, and Han took the opportunity to subtly rush over to his Inspector. He wormed himself under Chris’ arm.

“Hey,” Chris murmured, ruffling his hair. His Inspector’s arm slipped from his shoulders to his waist, and Han wondered if he was imagining the way Chris’ fingers trailed up and down his side. Changbin shot Han a knowing look, before taking a deep breath.

“Hale’s mother connected the dots for us.” The Sergeant glanced over towards the door. “Hyunjin.” The Constable scurried over, with Felix and Minho on his heels. “You got the info about Hale from Doctor Son, right?”

“Sure did.” Chris muttered. “Sodium thiopental again.”

“Where the fuck are they getting it from?” Han squeezed himself closer to Chris’ side.

“Likely the same guys who Tailor was working for.” Minho murmured. “I think they were trafficking the thiopental.”

“Here’s my theory.” Chris bit down on his bottom lip. “There’s a portside gang that Tailor was part of. They were trafficking substances, including the thiopental. Tailor was their dealer, Hale helped them clean some of their finances, and Cheng got dirt on them from her clients.” Changbin nodded at this. “They needed multiple victims to fit their MO, and got rid of their loose ends while making a point at the same time.”

“You think one of them might have snitched?” Han asked, and Chris shrugged.

“I think Tailor snitched, and they realised that they had too many loose cannons floating around London. If all of the other murders happened in South Korea, their big boys must be stationed there, right?”

“Yeah, we’ve found a couple of their bases.” Felix murmured. “We’ve never come close to catching them, though.”

“They’ve started to spread out in the last twenty years. I believe London is one of their newer conquests.” Minho added, and Felix nodded.

“So Tailor snitches,” Chris continued. “And they realise that maybe their London members aren’t fully under control yet. They see an opportunity to make a point to Kwang-hoon, the police force, and anyone else thinking about snitching. They pick out the six most likely to tattle on them.”

“That’s perfect.” Changbin was grinning up at Chris. “Good work, Inspector.” Chris flushed, glancing down at his feet.

“It makes sense for Roberts to be next.” Hyunjin whispered, face pale. “She spoke to us a couple of times.”

“Good thing we got BamBam onto her.” Chris sighed in relief. “Nothing gets past him.” The shadow passed over Chris’ face again.

“I’m sorry you didn’t know.” Felix murmured. He looked genuinely heartbroken at seeing Chris sad, and Han snuck his arm around Chris, squeezing his Inspector’s hip gently.

“It’s not your fault.” Chris forced a smile, but Felix was shaking his head.

“Your father…he didn’t want you knowing anything.”

“Why, though?” Chris whispered. “I’m a Detective. I could have come back to South Korea and helped. I could have gathered leads. BamBam and I could have done it together.” Felix closed his mouth quickly, his teeth clacking together. Everybody in the room froze.

“But then you would never have met me.” Han tried to sound jovial, but couldn’t hide the undercurrent of pain to his voice. If Minho had been stationed with Chris instead of BamBam, if BamBam hadn’t transferred…Chris would likely still be an Inspector, yes, but not _Han’s._

“You’re right, Jisungie.” Chris murmured, tousling the Constable’s hair. Chris paused as he looked down at Han. Then, his Inspector smiled, and it was radiant. All traces of the stress that had wormed its way onto Chris’ face had disappeared, and his dimples had popped out. “I’m so, so glad that I have you.” Like always, the rest of the room began to melt away as Han held his Inspector’s gaze, a smile tugging at his lips. Then, Chris opened his mouth, and the unthinkable happened. Han’s breath caught in his throat.

He could have sworn that his Inspector had just mouthed _‘baby’_ at him.

But that had to be Han’s imagination, right?

✧✧✧

**Saturday, morning**

Minho was stuck – quite literally, too. He was squished against the wall with Chan’s arm thrown around his waist, and the Inspector’s torso pressed flush against his back. As had become customary for them, their legs were tangled together. Usually, Minho might move around a bit, and reposition himself. But this time, despite how uncomfortable he was, Minho didn’t dare move.

Because today, Chan’s face was buried in his neck, the Inspector’s lips pressed against his skin. He could feel Chan’s warm breath against his neck, and it tickled a little – but most importantly, it felt like _home._ Minho blinked a few times, disorientated by having the wall right next to him. Right. He was on the floor. He smiled to himself as he thought about the end to the previous night.

Felix, as well as bringing enough food to feed an army, had also brought several bottles of soju. Felix had made ramyeon and jjigae, and the six of them had sat around Chan’s living room. Seungmin and Jeongin had of course been summoned. The pair were now as thick as thieves after Seungmin had helped Jeongin access all of the CID files on the case – which Chan was still leery about, Minho could tell.

As the eight of them had sat around drinking and eating and laughing, Minho had almost forgotten about the shit day that he’d had. Jeongin and Seungmin had ended up passing out on the couch, Jeongin’s head slumped onto Seungmin’s shoulder. Changbin had curled up on the lounge chair, and a drunken Felix and Hyunjin had started drawing on his face before making a small fort out of Chan’s spare bedding.

That had left Minho, Chan, and Han, and one bed.

Chan had a shitty roll-up mattress stuffed in his closet, and Han and Minho had argued relentlessly about who would take it. Then Chan had mumbled a barely-audible ‘goodnight’ and had curled up on the mattress. So of course, Minho and Han had argued about who would take the bed. It had ended with both of them glaring at each other and squeezing themselves onto the roll-up mattress on either side of Chan.

Minho had to admit, it was kind of cosy.

He shuffled onto his side, pushing Chan’s face into the crook of his neck. He hummed, content, and began combing his fingers through Chan’s hair.

_Minho smoothed his fingers over the bruises on Chan’s face. His index finger paused on the colourful bloom of purple painted over Chan’s cheekbone, before coming to rest on the shallow cut on his jaw. With great tenderness, he gently ran his finger over the pink scars adorning his boyfriend’s throat._

_‘I’ll forever be ugly now.’ Chan had said to him. But Minho had barely registered the words before he’d dismissed them. Chan was incapable of being anything less than breathtaking._

_“You’re so beautiful.” Minho whispered, resting his forehead against Chan’s. “My beautiful, precious angel.” Chan looked so peaceful when he was sleeping. It was one of the only times that Minho felt fully calm and in control. Chan shifted in his sleep, his eyelashes fluttering. Minho stilled. But Chan didn’t wake, and his breathing stayed even. Minho took the chance to pull Chan closer to his chest. “Please never leave me.” Minho whispered. “What would I ever do without you?”_

Suffer. That had been the answer to his unanswered question that day. Unconsciously, suddenly not caring if he woke Chan up, he pulled the Inspector fully into his arms, burying his face into Chan’s hair.

“Wha – what’s…time? Mornin’?” The barely legible gurgles came from Han, who was on Chan’s other side. Minho supposed that moving Chan had been enough to disturb the Constable enough for him to wake up. Minho lifted his face from Chan’s hair enough to send Han a glare.

“You idiot, you were supposed to take the bed.” He hissed, almost under his breath.

“No, you were.” Han’s voice was still groggy. “Sh…shut up, Min.” Han scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. “Minho-hyung.”

“Close call there.” Minho smirked.

“Baby…go back to sleep.” Chan groaned from Minho’s neck. Minho’s eyes widened, and he glanced up to find that Han was staring right back at him.

“Did he…” Minho began.

“Does he call…?” Han whispered, and Minho shook his head.

“I don’t know what he remembered.” Han’s expression soured – likely at the memory of the _‘I love you’_ incident, but it made Minho curious. “Since when does he call _you_ baby?” Minho muttered under his breath.

“I don’t know when it became any of your business.” Han shot back, but there was a little smile tugging at his lips.

“Shhh…shh…” Chan continued, now burying himself in Minho’s arms. “Sleeping time.” Minho bit back a laugh, and he locked eyes with Han, who was giggling softly.

“You heard him.” Minho whispered, and Han smiled warmly at him.

“We still have shit to do, come on.” Han murmured, ignoring the way Minho rolled his eyes. “Come on you big baby, up, _up.”_

“Hmph.” But Minho relented. They needed to check on Roberts. No calls had come that night from BamBam, so Minho was hoping that the situation was still under control. Minho felt a flicker of excitement in his gut. If Roberts was the fourth intended victim, they could catch whoever the killer was right in their tracks. And if Minho’s suspicions were correct, they’d come to abduct her first, likely to try and interrogate her, to find out if she’d run her mouth to the Detectives. The killers themselves seemed to be small fries – just pawns, scurrying around for the real master. But Minho was willing to bet that whoever ran the abductions…they held more power.

Minho could almost taste victory. Smirking to himself, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the bed, heading over to Chan’s closet. He sorted through the mass of black sweatshirts, smiling to himself as he ran his hands along all the different pieces of clothing. He selected one of the few colourful items – a soft blue sweater – and hummed happily to himself. He grabbed a black t-shirt, just in case they needed to go in pursuit of anyone. Clothes in hand, he turned to find Han staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. Minho followed Han’s gaze down to his own abs, and swallowed down a laugh.

He glared at Han, narrowing his eyes to make it look believable. He stalked over to the Constable, pushing his shoulders back. Han gulped, clearly intimidated, and Minho bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from giving the game away. He stopped when he was toe-to-toe with Han, glowering down at the Constable.

“Enjoying the view?” He leaned down, until his nose brushed Han’s. Han began to stumble backwards, waving his hands back and forth wildly.

“No!” Han hissed.

“A shame.” Minho then used Han’s own signature look against him – he pouted, lowering his lashes and sticking out his pursed lips. “I was going to let you keep enjoying the show.” Han’s jaw dropped again, and this time, Minho couldn’t help but giggle. As Han snorted and turned his back, Minho pulled the shirt and the sweater over his head and grabbed his phone. He frowned when he saw that he had several notifications, all from the last five minutes.

**Lixie**

**8:29am**

_Hyung, you up?_

_Hyung?_

_HYUNG?_

_MINHO-HYUNG?_

_Lee Know-Hyung?_

**Jeonginnie**

**8:45am**

_Bhuwakul messaged_

_There’s a problem_

_He needs back up_

**8:47am**

_You've got five minutes, and you better not be naked_

Minho froze, his breath stuttering as it left his lungs in a rush.

“Minho?” Now Han’s voice was full of concern.

“It’s BamBam.” Minho muttered back, rushing over to the bedroom door. "What the fuck does he want?" He threw it open and raced into the living room, where Jeongin was pacing anxiously. Felix had the phone pressed to his ear with one hand and was fiddling with his weapons belt with the other. Changbin was holding the belt up for him, his cheeks dusted with pink. Hyunjin was shifting back and forth on his feet, and Seungmin was scribbling madly in his leather-bound notebook. “What happened?” Minho demanded.

“See you soon.” Felix muttered into his phone, before shoving his phone into his pocket.

“You’re all set.” Changbin murmured, patting Felix’s shoulder, and Felix shot the Sergeant a quick smile.

“Why are you getting suited up?” Minho pressed, taking stock of how Jeongin was wearing his arm brace and bullet-proof vest.

“BamBam was just talking to Roberts.” Jeongin kept pacing as he spoke. “She knew what Cheng and Hale were up to. She was talking about them being involved in…fuck, what did she call it…a network, of some kind?”

“The room must have been tapped.” Felix whispered, his shoulders shaking with tension. “BamBam said he’d kept his mouth shut all night, but it was only this morning he pressed her on Hale and Cheng.”

“Idiot!” Minho exclaimed, digging his nails into his palms. “He should have waited for us!”

“I know, I know.” Jeongin spat out. He looked incredibly agitated, far from his unflappable self.

“We need to get Roberts into the station.” Han added, now standing by Changbin’s side.

“It’s too late for that!” Jeongin burst out, clearly impatient. “Someone shot her.” Minho felt his knees buckle. No, no, _no._ They needed information from her. She was vital to the next piece of the puzzle.

“She’s dead.” Seungmin glanced up from where his head was buried in his notes.

“No.” Minho whispered, his hands beginning to shake. “What letter was she? How did they get past BamBam long enough to –”

“Hyung.” Felix’s face was as white as a sheet, and Minho’s blood curdled. He clenched his jaw so tightly that he felt his bones creak. “The last thing she said before she died was ‘I know who’s next.’ She was never part of the six.” Minho heard ringing in his ears, his heart stuttering inside his chest.

“Then why –”

“She knew.” Seungmin spat out. “She knew all along.”

“She killed them.” Minho realised with a shock. He must have looked like he was about to fall over, because when he blinked, Han was standing beside him, pressing their shoulders together. “She killed both of them.”

“She was right under our noses the whole time.” Changbin growled. “I can’t believe this.” Minho thought he’d received all of the shocks his body could handle for that morning but clearly, he’d guessed wrong.

“Felix.” He whispered. “When she said she knows _who_ it’s going to be next, did she say _when_ it was going to happen?” It was a stupid question. He already knew the answer. The entire _room_ knew what the answer was, for fuck’s sake. Felix held his gaze steadily, but his partner’s eyes were glossy.

“Today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOOOOOOOO 
> 
> this chapter only came to me quite last minute. i've only just started to put some of the bigger pieces of the case together myself and they only really clicked last night, so i had to rewrite a bunch of shit  
> so please excuse the no doubt billion typos and weird sentences, and i really hope everything makes sense!!!!!!!!
> 
> once more we have minho getting himself into fights, but at least he's got han on his side now, right?
> 
> sidenote - there's a lot going on for stays at the moment, so please, please take care. i'm here for you if you need anything, feel free to ask for my twt @. hyunjin is strong and we're strong, and we'll get through this together.
> 
> thank you so much for reading, thank you so much for your comments and kudos and bookmarks, i appreciate you all so much <3  
> take care, and i'll see you next time!!  
> \- c


	13. Recondite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m Inspector Smith’s husband.”

_[Information not well-known or obscure.]_

_[I've been through a long battle_

_I've bet everything for this blueprint.]_

**Saturday, morning**

_“Today.”_

Felix’s voice was echoing through Changbin’s ears.

Dead. They’d had one lead in this entire shitshow of a case, and she was fucking _dead._

Bloodstone had been a joke of a lead – he’d been nothing but a lackey, and Jihyo’s report had stated that he’d been so off his face on PCP that any information he’d come up with had been a jumbled mess. He knew nothing about his employers, other than he went to the warehouses every Sunday night to receive his orders for the week. He was usually stationed to watch for cops or take out surveillance cameras while Tailor was conducting his deals.

That Sunday, all he could summon up was that they’d offered him PCP – for a small price. He had to dispose of a body for them. The body would be all loaded up in the car, he’d been told. He’d be driven to the location. They just needed someone to roll the body out of the car so that they didn’t have to spare anyone else to help. It’d just be Bloodstone, the driver, and a corpse.

So they’d waved a needle in front of his face, before loading it into his arm. Then they’d shoved him into the car, telling him it would take a while to kick in. But it would have only taken minutes, Changbin knew that. Only minutes for a high dose to turn him from completely cognizant to a paranoid, dizzy mess.

Changbin had seen it before. Two young men trying to get a quick high, instead landing in jail slapped with a life sentence from a violent episode gone wrong. A widow who had leapt to her death after the drug had triggered a panic attack. It was really no surprise to him now that Bloodstone had ended up mauling Tailor’s body.

So Roberts had seemed like their first proper lead. A piece of solid gold, shining amongst the confusion that muddied the case like grime. She’d known two of the victims, had travelled to South Korea, and it had been clear to Changbin that she would have been involved, ever since Hale’s mother had dropped Cheng’s name.

A lead was what every Detective was on the hunt for. Once you had a lead, you got a true whiff of the scent of your target. For Changbin, finding a true lead turned him into a bloodhound. It gave him an itch that he’d could scratch, that niggled at him incessantly until he solved the case with 3Racha. And to lose that…fuck, it was infuriating.

“We’re right back to square one.” He muttered under his breath.

“We’re not.” Chris murmured, squeezing his shoulder. “I’ve already looked over Jihyo and Chaeyoung’s reports. We know some of their MO. We’ve identified two of their lackeys. We have three victims, all IDed, and we have tons of background on them.” Chris began rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. “And once we look at Roberts’ body, we’ll have even more clues, yeah?”

“I can’t believe we sent BamBam into that situation.” Changbin murmured, curling his hands into fists. He glanced over at Chris, and was shocked to see that the Inspector’s expression had darkened. Chris looked down at his feet, leaving Changbin even more perplexed. He had expected to see guilt flash across the Inspector’s face, and for Chris to start wringing his hands. But Chris was pursing his lips together, glaring at the floor.

“I think he would’ve been fine.” Chris muttered.

“Did something happen?” Changbin gently nudged the Inspector’s shoulder.

“He works for my father.” Chris spat out, the words bitter. “This entire time, when I thought we were friends, he was just here to keep an eye on me.” White-hot anger erupted in Changbin’s chest. For fuck’s sake. Finding out that both Seungmin and Chaeyoung were under the instruction of Project Argus had been bad enough. But at least Changbin wasn’t close to them. Both of them were good at their jobs – Chaeyoung was an excellent pathologist, and was always so helpful and detailed with her reports. Seungmin seemed to be a promising Constable. Changbin also had to begrudgingly acknowledge that their involvement in Project Argus meant that they’d be fully committed to helping with the case.

But BamBam was another story. BamBam and Chris had been friends for _years._ The year after Chris had arrived in London, he’d joined the police academy, where he’d met BamBam. Chris had always talked about those years fondly, despite how much of a hellscape it had been for him psychologically.

Changbin had also been all-too aware of how deeply Chris had fallen for BamBam. They’d been inseparable. Chris had always been following BamBam around, or looking for excuses to talk to him. Chris didn’t trust easily. It had taken Changbin years to get Chris to fully trust him. And to his knowledge, Chris only trusted 3Racha, Jihyo, and BamBam. Changbin often got the sense that Chris didn’t even fully trust the rest of 3Racha yet. Even Minho was still having to break down Chris’ walls.

But BamBam…Chris wholly trusted BamBam. He’d told Changbin as much. Changbin leaned against the Inspector’s side, offering some support as he tried to choke back the furious words brewing in the back of his throat. This entire time, Chris had been played, and by the _one_ person in the world he relied upon so completely.

“I’m so sorry.” Changbin bit out, trying to keep his sharp tongue in check. He knew Chris wouldn’t appreciate him cursing out BamBam.

“He probably would have known more about her than we ever did, which is why he offered to go in the first place.” Chris continued, voice growing colder by the second. “It – it just makes me wonder, did he ever actually need my help? Did we do any cases _together,_ or did he already have all of the information, and just watched as I floundered around?”

“Listen to me.” Changbin stepped in front of the Inspector and grabbed his shoulders, forcing Chris to look at him. “You’re a bloody good Inspector. You’re one of the best.” Chris’ lips twitched into a smile. “You _are.”_ Changbin felt his own lips pull up into a smile. “Honestly, Chris? Let’s just ignore him, and go and solve her case.” A delighted little laugh sprung from the Inspector’s lips, and Changbin’s smile widened.

“So petty.” Chris mumbled to himself, shaking is head and grinning.

“You love it.”

“I do.” Changbin held up in his fist and Chris tapped it with his own. The two shared a quick smile before turning back to the street in front of them. All eight of them had decided to embark to the crime scene, Chris and Changbin having given up trying to delegate different tasks to them all. Every time Changbin had tried to direct Seungmin somewhere, Jeongin would pipe up that he would tag along, and then Minho would protest, and then Felix would try and keep the peace, and Changbin had sat there staring at the wall wishing that he was enough of an asshole to smack them over the head.

Minho and Han were huddled together with Felix and Hyunjin. Felix and Hyunjin were constantly dissolving into giggles whenever Minho or Han began bickering. Changbin could have turned it into a drinking game. Every time Minho glared at Han, take a shot. If Han tried to step on Minho’s foot or elbow him, take two shots. If Han and Minho started arguing and Felix almost fell over from laughter, down the entire fucking bottle.

“Idiots.” Changbin sighed, and Chris followed his gaze. The Inspector’s expression completely softened, and Chris smiled warmly.

“Yeah.” He murmured, eyes brimming with affection.

“I’m going to pretend I’m oblivious.” Chris snorted at this, and gave his shoulder a little shove.

“Shut _up.”_ Changbin just smirked back.

“I’m not helping you with any of this.” Changbin dodged as Chris went to smack him.

“Where were you planning on going looking like that, anyway?” Chris smoothly changed the subject.

“Like what?” Changbin frowned, looking down at his suit. He always kept one in his car in case of emergencies. It wasn’t one of my nicest ones, but it certainly wasn’t scruffy. Changbin glanced at the gaggle of fools ahead of him and caught Hyunjin looking at him. He locked eyes with the Constable and Hyunjin stopped dead in his tracks, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Last night. You know, with the eyeliner and cool piercings.” Changbin flushed, looking away.

“Nowhe –” Changbin began.

“A bar!” Hyunjin piped up enthusiastically. Minho turned around, smirking at Changbin, raising one eyebrow.

“Were you looking for information, or a f –”

“Shut the fuck up unless you want me to rip out your tongue, Lee.” Changbin bit back. But there was no real bite behind it. For a moment, it felt a bit like the banter he’d begun developing with Hyunjin. He almost _– almost_ – cracked a smile. Minho’s eyes glinted with mirth.

“Kinky.” Minho supplied, and this time Han smacked the back of his head.

“Hyung.” Han growled, and Minho danced away, poking his tongue out at the Constable. Changbin watched as the smile on Chris’ face grew wider and wider. As Minho passed by Chris, the Inspector’s hand shot out and he latched onto Minho’s wrist. Minho froze, and Chris dropped his hand immediately.

“S-sorry.” Chris mumbled. “Don’t know why I did that.” Minho’s eyes lit up. Changbin just rolled his eyes.

“Come on.” Changbin patted Chris’ shoulder. As he fell into step next to Hyunjin and Felix, he watched as Minho grabbed onto Chris’ hand.

✧✧✧

“Thank fuck you’re finally here.” BamBam greeted Chris with a huge smile, but the Inspector stared back at him, impassive.

“You didn’t get hurt, did you?” Despite how hurt he still felt, Chris couldn’t wash away the intense concern that was still bubbling away in his gut. BamBam shook his head, his smile steadily fading.

“I’m fine.” BamBam murmured. “Are you?”

“I –” Chris squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to tell the truth – that he was bitter and angry and hurt and that he was doubting himself every single second. “No.” He swallowed roughly and stared at his feet.

“We aren’t okay, are we?” BamBam whispered, and Chris shook his head. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel this way.”

“It’s okay.” Chris answered, reflexively. He hated letting people down.

“No, it’s not. And I get that.” BamBam paused, and Chris watched as the other Inspector shuffled his feet. “I’ll give you some time, but then I’ll fix it, okay?” Chris couldn’t bring himself to meet his friend’s eyes.

“Okay.” He breathed, and BamBam squeezed his shoulder.

“We’ll be cool, man, just give it some time.”

“Yeah.” Chris felt the knot in his stomach loosen a little. “Um, I should probably ask about…about the case.”

“It was bullshit.” BamBam’s voice hardened. “She was concerned when I told her she might be in danger – I didn’t mention Cheng at all. Nothing happened at all that night. And then…this morning…I told her you guys would be coming over. I told her we knew about her and Cheng. How they were close. How we thought she’d be next. She laughed and told me that she wasn’t next, but that she knew who was.”

“Holy shit.” Chris breathed.

“She offered to tell me if we cut her a deal, but then…” Chris finally glanced up. BamBam’s face was twisted with guilt.

“She was shot, right?”

“Through the window. They didn’t miss. Straight through the head.” Chris winced at this.

“She said something else, too.” BamBam was frowning. “She said something like…’the network is already on track. It’s too late.’ And then she gave me a note.” He beckoned for Chris to follow him. Chris glanced around the apartment, eyes immediately landing on the blood splattered all over the kitchen. The SOCOs were already swarming all over the place. There was a particularly gruesome pool of floods streaked across the kitchen table, and Chris fought down the urge to gag. He glimpsed the corpse, sprawled to one side, her hair caked with drying blood. She was still half in the chair.

Felix was with Changbin in the corner of the living room, a small device in his hand, checking for any wiretapping devices. Hyunjin was with the SOCOs, scribbling madly in his notebook. Han was speaking to Seungmin, who was gesticulating rapidly with his hands, Jeongin at his side. And Minho…Minho was standing in the middle of the living room, staring right at him. Minho’s gaze flicked abruptly to BamBam, and he scowled. Chris jerked his head slightly to the left and Minho began padding towards him, hands buried deep in his pockets.

“BamBam has something to show us.” Minho hummed in response.

“Here.” BamBam avoided Chris’ gaze as he passed him the note, which was sullied with bloodstained fingerprints. Chris, heart in his mouth, clutched the scrap of paper tightly.

_My dearest Inspector,_

_I know you were planning on using Empusa to get information. My sincerest apologies._

_You’ll need to try harder. The Genshin Network is everywhere, and you are not._

_However, I’ve been pitying you. I’ve decided that I will be lenient. This time, I will give you a chance. You now have until 6pm on Monday evening to find my next target. If you take them into police custody by this time, I will let them live. Otherwise, I will ensure that they suffer._

_Yours,_

💀

“Holy shit.” Chris had barely even realized that he’d begun trembling. Minho, who had been standing next to him reading intently, wrapped an arm around his waist. “Holy _fuck.”_

“The Genshin Network.” Minho breathed, his grip on Chris tightening. Chris glanced over to see that Minho’s eyes were wide. Minho looked back at him, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. “This is the first lead we’ve had in _years,_ Channie, _years.”_ Minho’s head landed on his shoulder, and Chris reached up to gently run his thumb over the side of Minho’s neck. “We’ve got a chance.”

“I’ve never heard of them before.” BamBam murmured.

“If we had, we’ve have caught them by now.” Minho shot back. He straightened up, glancing over at Felix.

“You should go and get some rest, BamBam.” Chris told his friend. He didn’t miss the way that BamBam’s expression fell at the lack of a nickname. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“She still ended up dead.” Chris just shook his head.

“Not your fault. You got some extra intel out of her. Every bit counts, you know that.” Chris gave BamBam a small smile, and the other Inspector sighed.

“See you around, then?”

“Yeah.” BamBam looked as if he wanted to say more, but glanced at Minho and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. The Inspector turned sharply on his heel, heading for the door.

“Thank fuck he’s gone.” Minho muttered, and Chris sighed.

“He’s not that bad.”

“He should’ve told you.”

 _“You_ could’ve told me.” Chris chided, but Minho shrugged.

“It wasn’t my place.” Chris knew he wasn’t going to change Minho’s mind. Clearly finding out that BamBam had close ties to A-Yeong had left Minho reeling too. Chris knew by now that whenever Minho felt unsteady, or caught off guard, he reacted by lashing out. Chris stuffed his hands into his pockets, tilting his head towards the kitchen table. Minho just nodded, latching onto his wrist. Chris glanced at the window. It had been left open – maybe Roberts had opened it that morning to let some fresh air in.

Or maybe she’d known what was coming, anyway. Maybe the plan had been for her to give him the note in person, but then she’d started talking, and they’d had to shut her up. Chris shivered. Had members of the Network been watching every single time they’d been at the crime scene? Had they just been waiting for one of their members make a slip up?

“Channie – Chris-hyung?” Felix’s low voice met his ears, and he turned to see that the younger man was watching him intently. He moved closer and leaned up on his tip toes to whisper into Chris’ ears. “Bugs. Lots of them.” Chris bit down on his bottom lip.

“Okay.” He murmured. “Okay, let’s go outside.” He trusted Hyunjin to have made a decent enough report of the crime scene for him. “Minnie.” Minho turned back to him. “We can solve this.” And the smile that lit up Minho’s face made Chris feel like he was invincible.

✧✧✧

**Saturday, noon**

“I’m _not_ doing eyeliner again for a disguise.” Changbin muttered.

“But you looked so good!” Hyunjin whined, and Changbin rolled his eyes.

“You did, hyung.” Felix beamed at the Sergeant, who flushed and looked away. They were stuffed into the smallest conference room in the building. Felix had checked for wiretapping devices and had deemed it safe. Jihyo, who had been busy finishing up with Bloodstone, had been able to join them for the meeting. She sat perched on the couch at the side of the room, arms crossed over her chest. Hyunjin and Seungmin were sitting at the table at the back, Seungmin poring over Hyunjin’s notes. Changbin was lounging in one of the chairs at the front. Jeongin was sitting cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with his jacket.

And at his side were Minho and Han. It felt…right.

“Bloodstone’s been charged.” Jihyo told him, cracking her knuckles. “Drug possession, interfering with a corpse, accessory. He didn’t give us enough info for them to let him off early.” She smirked. “He’s going away for a while.”

“Good.” Chris glanced at the whiteboard, where Han was finishing writing up the note Roberts had given BamBam.

“Empusa.” Jihyo murmured. “Who’s that?”

“My guess is on Roberts. Bloodstone was a codename, right?”

“Right.” She mused. “His real name is Eric Thompson.”

“Exactly, so Empusa is Millie Roberts. We have no one else to get intel out of.” She nodded at this.

“It’s from mythology.” Seungmin piped up. Chris’ ears perked in interest. “Like the names of our assignments. Pandora, Argus, Pythia…” Seungmin crossed his arms over his chest. “Makes me think they’re mocking us.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Minho spat. “But it also makes me think that there’s definitely a rat.” But Felix was frowning.

“I checked everyone in Argus myself.” Felix inhaled deeply. “I swear, hyung, I wouldn’t let someone in unless I was one million percent sure that they weren’t involved.”

“No, Lixie, I didn’t mean Argus.” Minho’s expression instantly softened. “It’s got to be someone closer to Kwang-hoon then we realized.” Suddenly Jihyo sat bolt upright.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I forgot to say! Chaeyoung found a scrap of paper in Cheng’s mouth. It had more letters on it.” Chris felt his veins thrum with excitement. The whiteboard pen fell to the ground with a soft clatter, and Han dove for it, seeming oddly flustered.

“Hit me.” Seungmin sounded eager. “I’ve got the other ones here.”

“A, H, V, T.” Jihyo sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“It makes no sense!” Seungmin huffed. “I can’t make head nor tail of it. I can’t make out any words yet.” He tapped his pencil against the desk. “Also, Lix showed me the note and I’ve been analysing it. It’s interesting.”

“Seungmin-hyung is a linguist.” Jeongin explained proudly, lifting his chin. Chris couldn’t help but smile fondly at the younger man. He wanted to run over there and pinch Jeongin’s cheeks. He noticed that Jihyo looked puzzled, and felt a pang of guilt as he realised that she had no idea that Seungmin was actually working for Project Argus.

“Go ahead, Seungmin.” Chris leaned back against the wall as Seungmin made his way over to the whiteboard.

“They’re referring to you with great esteem, but it seems mocking, more than they’re trying to come across as polite.” Seungmin underlined the _dearest, sincerest,_ and _yours._ He circled _Empusa._ “Whoever wrote it doesn’t care how much you know. They dropped Roberts’ codename. They finally revealed the name of the group behind all this – the Genshin Network.”

“They think they have the upper hand.” Changbin muttered darkly.

“Exactly.” Seungmin sighed. “Well, they _know_ that they do.” Changbin shot the Constable a glare, and Seungmin just shrugged. “For now, anyway.”

“Six in the evening on Monday.” Chris found himself whispering.

“That gives us two days.” Han muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Where the fuck are we supposed to start?”

“I was thinking about it, and –” Seungmin began drumming his fingers against the desk. “Well, Jeongin came up with the idea, really.” The Constable shot the redhead a smile. “The guys that Cheng was with, in the photos. I think we should look into them.”

“You don’t think we should be looking into any more of Roberts’ associates?” Jihyo wrinkled her nose in confusion. This time, it was Minho that shook his head.

“She had outlived her usefulness.” Minho explained, shrugging his shoulders. “There’s no point. We’ll find nothing.” Jihyo scowled at her feet.

“This is so complicated.”

“Oath.” Changbin muttered.

“I began looking into Nixon, and he’s holding a fancy charity ball on tonight.” At this, Chris looked up, eyes snapping wide open.

“Let me guess, half of the geezers in those photographs are going to be there, right?” As Jeongin nodded, Chris watched Minho began to shift back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Exactly.” Jeongin’s smile grew wolfish. “I say we just take all of the guys in the photos and throw them in custody.” Changbin snorted.

“That sounds like cheating.”

“Who said we were supposed to play fair?” Minho shot back, smirking.

“Speaking of the photos,” Changbin leaned forwards in his chair. “The letters – they aren’t related to the rest, right?”

“I don’t think so.” Minho sighed. “They seem to relate to the letter that she was branded with.” Chris tried to suppress a shiver as the gruesome image of Cheng’s corpse flashed through his head.

“I think I may have a lead on that.” Seungmin murmured. Chris’ attention instantly snapped to the Constable. The rest of the room also had their attention fixed on Seungmin now, who flushed at having eight sets of eyes on him. “What? I did study to be a linguist, it’s not like I don’t have experience in this area.”

“Spit it out, Constable.” Changbin told him, and Seungmin ducked his head.

“Right, um, well – Lust. Think about the other letters we’ve had in the past. S, two Gs, E, W.” Chris just stared at him blankly. “We’re missing a letter, but otherwise it fits. The seven deadly sins.”

“Holy shit!” Changbin exclaimed, banging his hands on the table. He seemed surprised at his own outburst. “So Tailor was Greed or Gluttony. Hale was Sloth. Cheng was Lust.”

“I guess they got tired of playing the game.” Minho hissed. “So what? It gives us nothing.”

“No, hyung!” That was Jeongin. “Listen, Seungmin and I were talking about it. We think Tailor would have been Greed. It’s very likely that the next one is Gluttony. Over-indulgence and over-consumption. It could mean sex, it could mean wealth. Either way, both fit with the men that Cheng was involved with.” Chris watched as Minho paused for a moment. Then, Minho’s face broke out into a smile.

“You’re so smart, Jeonginnie.” Minho cooed, and the younger man’s cheeks went the same colour as his hair.

“So I guess we’re getting suited up to infiltrate the bureaucracy.” Chris mused.

“I don’t like the idea of all eight of you going.” Jihyo cut in. “We still haven’t had a stakeout by the warehouses.”

“I can do that.” Changbin raised his hand. “If I get stuck with a bunch of pompous dickheads for more than an hour, I may end up starting a fight or just slapping them all with a felony.”

“Like what?” Han asked, rolling his eyes.

“Felony misdemeanour for being insufferable fuckwits.” Chris couldn’t help but laugh at this. He hid his smile behind his hands, trying to stifle his giggles.

“Okay, how about three teams, then?” Jihyo mused.

“Each team could have someone from Project Argus.” Minho suggested, and Changbin nodded slowly.

“Makes sense.” The Sergeant mused. Then he eyed Minho, eyes narrowed. “Shot not being stuck with Lee.”

“I’ll take him, Binnie, don’t you worry.” Chris chuckled, and Changbin just rolled his eyes.

“Like that’s surprising to anyone.” Changbin muttered under his breath.

“I’ll come with you guys.” Han piped up.

“Also not a surprise.” Changbin snorted. 

“Shut up, Binnie.” Han hissed, and Changbin’s eyes gleamed with amusement.

“I’ll take –” Changbin began, but suddenly Hyunjin was on his feet, eyes wide, cheeks flushed pink.

“I’ll go with Sergeant Seo!” The Constable exclaimed, rather breathlessly.

“Me too!” Felix also got to his feet, but was staring at his shoes. Changbin, instead of rolling his eyes like Chris had expected, remained impassive. But if Chris stared at the Sergeant, he swore he could detect the slight trace of a smile on the Sergeant’s lips. Not for the first time, Chris found himself thinking _‘interesting.’_

“That leaves Seungmin-hyung with me.” Jeongin couldn’t have sounded more smug. “And Inspector Park.” He added quickly, but Jihyo already had a knowing smile on her face.

“Actually, Inspector.” Minho, strangely, looked almost nervous. Chris found it a little endearing. Clearly, Jihyo had earned Minho’s respect. “I was thinking of getting Jeongin and Seungmin to run our surveillance. That would free you up to keep an eye on any other activity that pops up.” She nodded slowly, frowning a little as she glanced over at Seungmin.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” She murmured, and he nodded. “Of course, Inspector! I’ve got this.”

“What about me?” Hyunjin pouted, and Jihyo giggled.

“You have Changbin to keep you in line.”

“I hope babysitting pays more than this.” Changbin snorted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

✧✧✧

**Saturday, afternoon**

“I do not understand why going to infiltrate a gang means I have to change my hair colour.” Changbin remained stubbornly in the arm chair in Chris’ apartment, glaring at the wall. It seemed that they’d all silently but unanimously agreed that it was their new base of operations. “This is like you saying I had to wear cool earrings to stake out someone in a bar, which, by the way, did absolutely nothing.”

“Yes, but Changbin-hyung, we have to look badass.”

“And I don’t already?” Changbin scowled.

“Come on, Binnie.” Han looked up from where he was sitting on a towel on the floor, waiting until he could rinse the dye out of his hair. Felix was sitting next to him, running a hand through his newly-dried hair while he scrolled through pictures of different hair colours on google. Felix had already done his hair with the help of Minho, who seemed to be quite adept at bleaching and dying hair. Felix’s hair was now a light teal, which complimented his skin tone and brought out his freckles. Hyunjin had decided to stick with his blonde hair, and had just decided to touch up his roots.

At first, the idea had just been for Changbin’s team to change their hair colour. But of course, after seeing Felix’s transformation, Han had desperately wanted to get involved. The most he’d done was colour a strip of his hair one time when he turned eighteen, but since then he’d kept his hair dark. He wanted a change – and plus, he wanted to impress Chris. He wanted to pick something that would make him look _hot._ The logical part of Han’s brain knew that he was going to the charity ball for work, but there was the little annoying voice in his head that kept telling him that maybe, just maybe, if he looked good enough, Chris would try and make another move.

Hopefully his Inspector would at least call him ‘baby’ again.

“You’ve never dyed your hair?” Hyunjin was asking Changbin, who looked away. Han laughed.

“As if! Changbin had pink hair four years ago.”

“It was a phase.” Changbin muttered desperately.

“It looked good, Binnie.” Chris shot back.

“I am _not_ going pink again.” Changbin scowled.

“Please, Changbin-hyung?” Felix wheedled, eyes wide, bottom lip poking out in a pout.

“Fine.” Changbin growled. “Fine! Just – just make me blonde, or something.”

“If you really don’t wanna do it, we won’t force you.” Felix’s face fell, and he looked guilty. Changbin’s eyes widened, and he began waving his hands in protest.

“No, no, it’s okay! I – I want to.”

“Now who’s being obvious?” Han muttered under his breath. He glanced towards the bathroom, curious as to what hair colour Chris would emerge with. Maybe red? Maybe blue? Or green? Or blonde, like he’d had it a few years ago? Han smiled to himself. Who was he kidding, Chris looked good in _all_ hair colours. Minho would be the real wild card though.

“What are you going to wear?” Hyunjin piped up, and Han frowned at this.

“Actually, I hadn’t thought about that.” Han muttered. “Shit, will I need to look fancy?”

“Just leave it to me.” Hyunjin smiled wolfishly.

✧✧✧

**Saturday, evening**

“Thoughts?” Hyunjin poked Han’s shoulder when he didn’t respond. “Do you hate it?”

“N-no.” Han stared at his reflection. “I – I really, really like it.” His hair was a dark, glossy blue, and Hyunjin had slicked it back on one side, showing off his forehead. He was wearing a black button up underneath a tight-fitting blazer, which was black. Hyunjin had loaned Han one of his belts, which even Han had to admit was the highlight of the entire outfit. It cinched in his waist in the best way, making it appear even smaller than it actually was. He was wearing large hoops through his ears – a little unconventional, Hyunjin had said, but it brought attention to his jawline.

“You have surprisingly broad shoulders.” Hyunjin mused, and Han flushed.

“Th-thanks?”

“He’s going to love it.” Han was sure that this time he’d gone completely red. “Please, I heard Changbin whining about you two.”

“Do you actually think so, though?” Han murmured, and Hyunjin sighed.

“Listen, trust in me. I know what I’m doing.” Hyunjin tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “Your hair looks so good, too.”

“I’m not used to this, Hyunjin. It feels like we’re friends or something.” Hyunjin snorted, but his smile was fond.

“Why would I want to be friends with _you?”_ Hyunjin shot back. Unlike all those other times in the past at the academy, it felt light and teasing. Han rolled his eyes and gave Hyunjin a small shove.

“Remember, Changbin moved the warehouse stakeout to tomorrow night, so we can back you up tonight if need be.”

“We’ve got this.” Han hoped that he sounded a lot more forceful than he felt. He patted Hyunjin on the shoulder and headed for the door. But before he could open it, the door swung open.

“Oh, sorry.” Chris blinked down at him, looking sheepish. Then his eyes widened, and the tips of his ears immediately began to turn bright red. “U-um, wow, Jisungie, you look – um, really good.” Han couldn’t help but immediately preen under the praise.

“Woah, Chris.” Hyunjin murmured, and Han finally dared to take in his Inspector’s appearance. His knees buckled.

 _“Holy shit.”_ He breathed, eyes widening. Chris looked like a dream come true, with ash blonde hair and effortlessly beautiful eye shadow. He was almost _glowing,_ his eyes lit up with excitement, hair tastefully slicked back to show off his forehead. Now Han realised why he loved Chris’ messy, rumpled appearance so much. If Chris looked anything other than one hundred percent cuddle material, Han was almost halfway to the floor with his skyrocketing heart rate threatening to send him into cardiac arrest.

And the _suit._ It was white, spotless and crisp. The cuffs and lapels of the suit were encrusted with tiny crystals, which made Chris look only more ethereal. Around his neck was a white silk scarf, which Han had half a mind to run through his fingers. Chris seemed to notice the way his jaw had dropped, because his Inspector began to nibble on the inside of his cheek and fiddled with the sleeves of his suit.

“I-it’s the eyebrow slit, right?” Han’s eyes flew from Chris’ lips to his eyes immediately. Oh shit. Chris looked badass with an eyebrow slit. If anyone else had paired an eyebrow slit wit a white suit and silk scarf, Han would’ve raised an eyebrow. But somehow, it just made his Inspector look even more gorgeous.

“Who do I have to thank for that?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Felix.” Chris giggled, the tips of his ears turning pink. Han reminded himself to give Felix the most firm handshake of his life later.

“Chris? We have to get going soon, what are you doing?” Minho’s voice carried through the open door.

“Just looking for Jisungie.” Chris shot Han a smile as Minho stepped into the room. Han unconsciously latched onto Hyunjin for support. The other Constable just looked at him and rolled his eyes. Now Han understood how Changbin and Hyunjin got along so well with each other. Han swallowed a gasp as he turned his attention back to Minho.

The older man had decided to go with purple hair, and was also sporting a suit. It was a pretty thing, made out of a dark green material that looked like velvet. Minho was also wearing light make up, but someone – Felix, Han assumed – had given him a touch of white eyeliner on the inner corner of his eye and on the outer edge of his eye. It highlighted the sharpness of his eyes. Paired with the light touch of silver eyeshadow brushed over his lids, it made Minho look…almost angelic. Deadly beautiful.

Han’s stomach twisted into a trillion different knots. The green of Minho’s suit paired with Chris’ outfit perfectly. With the two of them standing close together, it was far too much for Han to handle.

“He looks good, doesn’t he?” Minho, having evidently noticed that Han had been staring, smirked. Han tried to muster up a glare, but he must’ve made him look even more slack-jawed, because Minho’s smirk deepened.

“I think the only crime that’ll be happening tonight is whatever the two of you have going on.” Chris mumbled. Han’s eyes widened, and he exchanged a glance with Minho, who looked equally as startled. Chris slapped his hands over his mouth. Minho began giggling, jabbing Han’s Inspector in the side.

“Cute of you to notice me.” Minho murmured. Someone cleared their throat rather loudly. Unsurprisingly, it had come from Changbin, who sidled his way between Minho and Chris to push the two apart. He put his hands on his hips, letting out the most insufferable sigh that Han had ever heard.

“Are you Detectives, or husbands?” Changbin glowered. “Come on, let’s go.”

✧✧✧

**Sunday, night**

“Diuretz, Lakhotia, Sullivan, White.” Han murmured to himself, counting the names off of his fingers. “If we get lucky, Kim and Kang as well.”

“Precisely.” Minho muttered back. “Remember. I’m Hyun-Woo Kyeong, an investment broker from the midlands.”

“I’m your manager, Samson Jung.” Chris adjusted his scarf, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“I’m Peter Choi, an accountant. I shouldn’t be here, but I begged you to come and you just managed to slip it into the budget.” Han couldn’t help but add some false bravado to his voice, like he was introducing a character in a game of DND. Minho cracked a small smile. “We’re here to try and make some connections for our small business. We know some fellows.”

“Fellows?” Minho snorted. “No, you’ll use your Superintendent’s name, or BamBam, or something. Someone’s bound to know one of them.”

“I’ve never been to something like this before.” Han shot back. He took the opportunity to glance around the gigantic hall. It was swarming with people, all who were dressed in clothes that practically screamed ‘ridiculously overpriced.’

“I have.” Minho’s voice darkened, and he frowned. By now, Han knew that that meant that Minho was thinking about something that had happened in the past. To Han’s surprise, Chris chuckled.

“Those parties really were the worst.” His Inspector murmured. Minho stiffened. “Remember how we hid under the table?” Minho just stared at Chris for a moment, before a huge grin spread across his face. Han kind of wished he was wearing sunglasses, because Minho’s smile was so blinding.

“And we’d toss olives at your father’s friends.” Minho began giggling. Han wondered if this is what Minho had used to be like, before Chris had disappeared those thirteen years ago. If he’d just be a carefree, happy-go-lucky teen. He was surprised that he didn’t feel jealous. It was a memory that he couldn’t take part in discussing. It bonded Minho and Chris together. But seeing how smiley the two had become, Han couldn’t help but start grinning himself.

“Oh shit.” Chris whispered. “It’s him. The big boss.” Han turned to see a large, balding man making his way through the crowd. A flute of champagne was clutched in one meaty fist, a half-eaten pastry in the other. His suit was made of purple suit and clung to his body in all of the most unflattering places. He had a huge, bushy, handlebar moustache, and his booming voice, with its distinct Yorkshire accent, bounced off of the soaring walls of the ballroom. He looked like a pudgy, unkempt old walrus, which had been wrapped in a silk sheet. Han gagged.

 _‘I’m so sorry, Miss Cheng.’_ She must have been paid exceptionally well to have put up with the tycoon. But for all his rotundness and bumbling antics, Thomas Nixon’s eyes were sharp. The tycoon didn’t miss a single face. No crumb or scrap of food went unregarded. He hadn’t gotten the nickname of Tiger Shark for nothing. The man had committed tax fraud, bribery, embezzlement, fraud, and laundering. He’d been caught, but never charged. He had the money for big lawyers, and had spent decades securing his friendship with those in high places. Han couldn’t help but scowl.

He hated people like Nixon. Those who tore down others, who destroyed livelihoods, just for wealth. And to make it worse, Nixon was a glutton. He had more than enough money to last three lifetimes, but clearly still craved more, and _more._ Han’s eyes widened. That was exactly what Seungmin had predicted the next murder would be.

_Greed. Sloth. Lust._

“Gluttony, pride, envy, wrath.” Han whispered. He cast his gaze around the room, unable to stop himself from wondering if any of the occupants of the room would be the next one to lose their life.

“This is our chance.” Chris murmured in his ear. Before Han could stop him, Chris patted him on the back and darted towards Nixon, who was just about to disappear back into the crowd after picking up a new glass of champagne. Han practically leaped after his Inspector, with Minho hard on his heels.

“Mr. Nixon.” The easy, smooth smile that his Inspector sported had Han on edge. The business tycoon looked puzzled for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he took Chris up and down. “A moment, please.”

“Well, of course.” Nixon sniffed. “Hello.” Nixon gave the three a polite smile, before his eyes fixed on Chris again. “You look familiar.” Nixon muttered, squinting at Chris. Han’s heart rose into his throat. “I’ve seen you on the television before.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me, sir.” Chris offered his hand to the tycoon. “Detective Inspector Christopher Smith. It’s a pleasure.” Han tried to pass his gasp off as a sneeze. Shit. They hadn’t thought this far ahead. This hadn’t been part of the script. Nixon’s face slackened, and Han didn’t miss the flare of panic that erupting in the man’s eyes. Han watched as Minho adopted a more relaxed posture, sliding his hands into his pockets and rolling his shoulders back. Clearly, Minho had thrown their previous fake identities out the window, and was ready to adopt the purposefully-relaxed pose of an off-duty cop. “I apologise for interrupting your evening in such a way, but…” Chris looked from left to right, before leaning in close towards Nixon. The tycoon froze, flinching back. But Chris just flashed him a wolfish smile, one that showed his teeth, and continued to lean closer. “I’m here investigating Diuretz and Sullivan…I’ve heard they’ve been bad.” Chris tutted, before shooting Nixon a wink. Instantly, the tension bled out of Nixon’s shoulders. He looked pleased – gleeful, even. Nixon chuckled, clapping Chris on the shoulder.

“Ah! Inspector Smith! You solved that Strangler case a few years back, didn’t you?” Chris rubbed the back of his neck and laughed, looking sheepish. “And you’re on the case of those murders in the Southside recently, the one they’re saying a serial killer is behind.”

“You’re observant! That’s me, sir.” Chris flashed the tycoon a cheeky grin. Nixon was now taking in Han’s Inspector appreciatively. Clearly, he thought he’d struck gold, and would be able to befriend a Detective. Han shifted closer to Chris, the hungry edge to Nixon’s gaze making him feel on edge.

For a moment, he wished that they’d gone all in with the disguises. He could’ve pretended that he was Chris’ rich husband, could’ve wrapped an arm around Chris the entire evening. He could’ve been sneaking his Inspector champagne and finger food, giggling into his ear. Maybe he would’ve gotten the guts to be a bit handsy, clinging onto Chris’ waist or playing with his fingers. They could’ve stumbled back to Chris’ apartment tipsy and giggly at two in the morning –

He jumped as Minho kicked his foot.

“Focus.” Minho whispered in his ear, tilting his head towards where Chris was still buttering up Nixon.

“– oh my dear boy, please, _do_ call me Thomas.” The businessman was now beaming as he grasped Chris’ arm. Han gritted his teeth.

 _‘Get your filthy hands off of him.’_ Han thought viciously. His internal dialogue must have manifested as a scowl, because Minho kicked his foot again. This time, Han squeaked, and Nixon turned his deep-set brown eyes towards the Constable, looking offended at having been interrupted.

“Christopher, who are these two gentlemen?” Nixon peered at Han for a moment, seeming remarkably less interested in comparison to when he’d taken in Chris.

“This is my partner, Detective Constable Jisung Han.” Recognition flashed across Nixon’s face. “Ah yes, I remember you from the press conference.” Then Nixon glanced at Minho. He frowned. “Detective Sergeant Seo…?” He began, but Minho shook his head.

“I’m Inspector Smith’s husband.” At this, Han stiffened. He watched as Chris froze, before coughing into his hand, clearly trying to pass off his surprise. Nixon blinked owlishly a few times.

“He couldn’t resist an opportunity to get dressed up.” Chris laughed, but Han could tell it was a little strained. Nixon began laughing as well, turning his attention fully to Minho.

“Oh, well, I can see why! Quite a nice specimen you managed to pin down, Inspector.” Chris’ smile grew strained. Minho, on the other hand, just looked amused. “You make a lovely couple.” Han knew that it was all for show. It was for the case. It was to keep Chris safe. But it didn’t stop his blood from boiling as he watched Minho drape himself over Chris’ shoulder, hands dangling down over Chris’ chest, pressed flush against Chris’ back. Minho lowered his lashes and glanced at Nixon, his lips curling into a coy smile.

“Why thank you.” Minho murmured, suddenly demure. “I’ve always said that Chris looks ravishing in a suit.” Nixon seemed delighted that Minho was giving the tycoon his full attention, and puffed out his chest.

“The wedding must have been delightful.” Nixon chattered along happily.

“Oh, it was incredible. Best night of my life.” Han watched with baited breath as Chris shivered, Minho’s lips brushing the shell of Chris’ ear as he spoke. Han watched with narrowed eyes as Chris slipped his hands behind his back, fingers dancing over Minho’s until they landed on one of Minho’s rings. While Minho continued to smile winningly at Nixon, he wriggled one of his rings off his finger and slipped it onto Chris’ left ring finger.

Yeah, okay, the jealousy was back in full force. Now even if Han, was somehow blessed enough by the universe to be in a position to ask Chris to marry him, the whole sensation of someone slipping a ring onto his finger would have been taken away. _‘He could’ve just put it in Chris’ hand.’_ Han thought moodily. Clearly Chris had been expecting it to go that way, because Chris’ ears were both completely scarlet. 

“Well, Inspector, I believe I may be able to help you out.” Nixon seemed to have completely relaxed. “I’ve heard excellent things about you from Wade.” It took all of Han’s willpower for him not to react.

“Oh, Superintendent Scott?” Chris kept his tone light, but Han didn’t miss the slight catch in his voice. “Excellent man.” Chris smiled at Nixon. It made Han’s stomach twist. He’d always been very aware of the corruption rife within the ranks. But he’d always held out hope that, for all of the Superintendent’s flaws and old school way of thinking, he was an honest man. But after the fact he’d likely covered up for Tailor’s criminal history, along with the fact that he seemed to be personally involved with one of the most corrupt business tycoons in the whole of London…it was crystal clear to Han that the Superintendent was dirty.

“Now, I don’t like to say much about my colleagues, but I will say this. Sullivan has been getting quite close to Edward White lately. Something about warehouses on the southside…” Han stiffened, eyes widening. “And Diuretz, well…” Nixon smirked, well aware that he had the three men hooked onto his every word. “I’d be checking that man’s taxes. The papers have been saying that he’s been overtaking me – you know, the _Dispatch,_ and all that – but we all know that really, he’s just been cheating somehow to get ahead.”

“Bastard.” Minho offered, and Nixon grinned again.

“Precisely my thoughts!” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So, why are you after him, hmm?” Chris wagged his finger.

“Now, now, can’t give the game away too early.” Chris pretended to ponder. “Although, I’ll just say this…he may be first page very soon, and for all the wrong reasons.”

“Oh my dear boy, if you could get rid of that slimy toad for me, I would owe you. If you need any help getting evidence…” There it was, the catch. Han had no doubt that Nixon wasn’t above feeding Chris false information to incriminate Diuretz. As long as it meant that Nixon would be more successful, then he had no qualms about throwing an innocent man under the bus. Luckily, however, Han’s conscience was sated by the fact that Diuretz, by pure association with Cheng, wasn’t a good person. At the very least, he had been cheating on his wife, and Han wasn’t about that life. Suddenly, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket, and he flushed as his companions all turned their eyes to him.

“Sorry.” Han flushed, shoving his hand into his pocket and instantly declining the call.

“Oh! I almost forgot to mention, Wade is here, by the way!” Nixon babbled on, looking around, craning his short neck. Han followed the tycoon’s gaze. For some reason, the Superintendent, who had never really struck him as noticeable before, stuck out to Han like a sore thumb. As soon as his eyes landed on his superior, Han felt a heavy weight settle over his shoulders. A chill ran down his spine. His phone buzzed again and he gave a sigh of defeat. It was probably just Felix sending him memes, anyway.

**Changbin**

**8:47pm**

_Fuck you for not picking up, it’s urgent_

_We IDed the superintendent in one of the cheng photos_

_Han?_

_Han please he might be there right now_

_Han, either he’s next, or he’s one of them_

_Han, you might be in danger_

Han’s phone clattered to the floor as a piercing scream rang through his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry that i posted this late, i was meant to post it before i went to sleep but i got so tired and then had work )): but i am here nowwwww
> 
> i was so tempted to make a whole twt account just so i could post inspiration for their outfits, and i'm still considering it honestly. quick hair colour reveal wHOO: felix (light blue), han (dark blue), seungmin (red), jeongin (white), hyunjin (still blonde), chan (ash blonde), minho (purple), changbin (blonde). 
> 
> i feel like i'm finally getting somewhere in terms of the plot, but every time i just get side-tracked with my minchansung agenda. like yes i want them to pay attention to the evil businessman but also...han dying over minchan in suits is clearly far more important, right?
> 
> the last two chapters probably haven't been the best, so i'm going to work extra hard on the next one. this one has also been unedited, and some parts were written at 2am, so. i'm so sorry if nothing made one bit of sense 
> 
> i've been doing okay, much better after we got the chanbin vlive, that made my entire night. i hope you are all doing okay still, and that you're not getting too overwhelmed by everything. 
> 
> ALSO...we're almost at 100k words and 2k hits. this is insane. idk how the fuck i've gotten this far. it's all thanks to you guys, especially my favourite people who leave me a comment on every chapter, i appreciate you so much. i say this every time, but you genuinely mean so much to me. thank you so much for sticking with me for like...3 whole months, and probably another couple more. let's finish this fic together. 
> 
> i'll see you next time <3 take care!  
> \- c


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